Bonds
by DuckiePray
Summary: Almost two years after "Broken", a mysterious illness looms over the family and causes tension and tempers to rise. The future of the team now hinges on the question of whether they will strengthen existing relationships, or simply let them fall by the wayside. BRIDGE FIC
1. Tea

***Hello again, my friends, and welcome to a decidely _different_ journey. I've delved into the past a couple of times now, but this story is going to serve as a bridge for two of my early fics. I feel like the boys did a lot of changing in the gap between "Broken" and "Sacrifice", and Bonds will kind of fill in some of that.**

**I think there are a number of reasons that this was the chosen time for me to write the bridge. I wanted to work with Splinter again, and I never explored very much of a younger Leonardo and Raphael's relationship. **

**On top of that, I can admit that my experiences with my father and his illness over the last year and a half influenced this story too. ****When the chips are down, that's when you discover what people are really made of, and who will always be there for you. With those words, this fic is dedicated to my step mom and step sister. We're not related by blood, but I'll never forget their outpouring of love and support for my dad over the course of his sickness. Never.**

**For point of reference, the boys begin this story in their early twenties. I do not own the TMNT, but it's my pleasure to play in their world, and share it with you. Thanks for reading.**

* * *

Leonardo couldn't sleep. It wasn't for a lack of _trying_; the blue-masked turtle had attempted to shut down his mind for over two hours without success. He opened dark eyes to stare at the ceiling and sighed heavily. _I can't keep lying here. _

He could hear his brother's soft snoring from the bunk beneath him, and had no wish to wake up Raphael. Leonardo carefully worked his way over the side of the bed and dropped silently to the floor. He gazed at his red-masked brother for a moment, and then continued out of their bedroom.

In the hall, he hesitated outside of Don and Mike's room, listening. When Leonardo didn't hear anything, he was immediately grateful. With the mysterious illness their Sensei had suffered under for months, it was easy for the docs to overreact to the flu-like symptoms Donatello had come down with about a week before. _But Don sounds a lot better than he did, and this is the second night in a row I haven't heard him coughing._

Leonardo kept going, trotting down the stairs into the darkened living area. Their normal night-light cast a faint glow from an outlet near the kitchen, but _more_ light was also spilling into the room from underneath the door. _Someone must have left the light on _again_. What good does it do to tell anyone—_

The sound of breaking glass cut off the thought in an instant, and Leo dashed through the kitchen door. He gaped in surprise when he found his Sensei clinging to the kitchen counter for dear life, struggling to keep his balance on a stool. The shattered remains of a tea-cup littered the kitchen floor, and another was lying cracked on the countertop.

"Master!" The blue-masked turtle hurried to help him down from his perch, but Splinter resisted his aid.

"I am perfectly all right, my son."

"It doesn't look like it, Sensei."

The rat grunted his disapproval under his breath. "If you would give me some space, I will come down myself."

"Master, are you sure—"

Splinter straightened upright and stiffly turned around to face the turtle. "Leonardo, if I need your help, I will ask for it."

The frustrated undercurrent in his Master's tone was unusual to hear, and it disturbed Leonardo more than he cared to admit. "Sensei, why don't you stay there for a minute while I sweep up some of the glass?" Leo suggested, stalling for time.

Onyx eyes probed him suspiciously, but Splinter leaned against the counter to wait while Leonardo grabbed a broom from the corner.

The turtle attempted to appear nonchalant as he swept up the pieces of the cup, but in the silence that lingered in the air, he could hear the raspy quality of his Sensei's breathing. Splinter's strange condition had begun in the late winter, with what their docs had diagnosed as a bad case of pneumonia. But rather than improving with the passage of time, his breathing seemed to be getting _worse_. When Leonardo chanced a glance up at Splinter, he was captured by how much his father appeared to have aged in a span of a few months.

"Leonardo, why are you not asleep?"

_Even now, he's trying to deflect me from worrying about him._

"I tried, Master," he replied honestly. "I just couldn't." Leonardo tried to swallow his concern as Splinter gingerly climbed down from the stool and shuffled toward the table.

The rat pointed at the kettle on the stove behind them. "Would you mind finishing, Leonardo, since I am incapable of doing anything for myself?"

Despite the bitterness in Splinter's words, Leonardo moved to obey. "Don't worry about the tea cups, Sensei," he said as lightly as possible. "We know they're replaceable. How many have Raph and Mike broken over the years?"

Splinter didn't answer right away, collapsing into a chair first. "The glass trinkets are not what concerns me, my son. That I could nearly fall in doing nothing more than trying to climb a couple of steps is what burdens me. I am tired – _too_ tired."

Leonardo sniffed the steeping herbs, breathing in their fragrance. "Then you should rest, Father. But tea would be a very good idea first."

"For you as well, Leonardo. Would you bring the cups and come sit down?"

The blue-masked turtle stretched to retrieve two more tea cups to fill, and brought them over to the table. "Did you know I was coming?"

Splinter shook his head. "No. One cup was merely stacked with another when I dropped them both." He cleared his throat painfully. "How was Donatello today?"

"He sounds better, Sensei. He said he's feeling better too."

"Good, that is good. I trust you will not allow him to work too hard in the meantime."

Leo laughed awkwardly. "No, Master. Doc and Marc have helped us keep an eye on him. Don hasn't been doing any training, and we barred the door to the lab."

Splinter's whiskers twitched thoughtfully. "Humph. That should probably be done more often."

Leonardo blew on the steam rising from his cup and stared down at his tea. "We were all worried when Don started coming down with something, but it turned out to be pretty minor. The extra rest certainly didn't hurt him. He'd probably _live_ in the lab if we let him."

The rat's chuckle sounded raspy. "I am glad you are here to look after things, my son."

"We've _all_ been trying to keep up with everything like normal," Leo said quickly. "Most days Mikey even trains without a fight." The joke seemed to fall flat, but it at least earned another smile from Splinter.

"You must find some way to keep Dr. Barrows busy as well. I am not sure what the man would do with himself if he didn't have the four of you to take care of."

The turtle shook his head. "Oh, he's _been_ busy, Sensei. Doc's been working the graveyard in the ER every other night for the last three weeks. There have been so many new cases of the swine flu, the normal staff is having a hard time keeping up."

"I see. So _that_ is the reason that Dr. Barrows has been hovering less. I believed that he might have finally been easing up on me."

Leo gazed at Splinter mutely. _It doesn't seem like _anyone_ should ease up on you. Just the opposite. _He swirled around the tea in his cup and took a careful sip. "Doc's still been here during the day. I don't think he does anything at home except sleep."

"He will make _himself_ ill if he continues to behave that way. You must try to make him see reason, my son."

Leonardo nodded. "I'll do my best, Sensei. Doc is pretty stubborn."

A furred hand stretched out to cover his fingers. "As are _all_ of you, Leonardo."

"There's something to be said for stubbornness, father. It means we don't give up easily."

"Nor should you - not for any reason."

Splinter's expression took such a serious turn that it gave Leonardo chills. "We wouldn't, Master. If everything else fails, we'll always have each other."

The rat nodded emphatically and took a drink of his tea. "There will never be an end of petty things that could separate you, my son. The important thing is for you to look past your differences and disagreements, to focus on what really matters. You are a team, and it is my hope that you will remain one."

Leonardo set down his cup decisively. "There have been plenty of mistakes, but we've worked through them. You're not worried about the four of us getting along, are you?"

"No, Leonardo, I am not worried. I am simply reminding you." Splinter inhaled deeply, and the motion set off a wrenching cough.

Leo easily read the heaviness of his father's eyes. "You need to go back to bed, Sensei."

"I do not wish to be chained to my quarters, Leonardo," he said wistfully.

"I know, Master, but you need rest."

Splinter pushed back from the table and started to reach for his cup.

"I'll bring your tea," Leo offered.

His Sensei's ears flattened in irritation. "Do you intend to bring _me_ as well?"

"No, Master. I know you can walk."

Splinter slowly led the way across the kitchen, and Leonardo kept a slight distance from him so that the rat wouldn't feel like he was crowding him. The blue-masked turtle didn't _want_ to analyze or theorize what could be wrong with his Sensei, but it was difficult not to imagine anything.

The familiar scent of incense hit Leonardo as soon as he entered Splinter's quarters behind him, but it was followed by a slightly medicinal quality that he couldn't get used to. Leonardo set the tea-cup down on the small bedside table, and watched his father crawl back into bed.

"Do you need anything else, Sensei?"

"Yes. I need for you to get some sleep too, Leonardo, so you will be fresh for tomorrow. I need you to keep encouraging your brothers in their training in my absence."

"I will, father."

"That is all then," he said dismissively. "_Oyasuminasai_, Leonardo." (Good night)

The turtle bobbed his head in return. "_Oyasuminasai_, Sensei."

Leonardo shut the door quietly behind him, and sighed as he looked around the living area. _Sensei sounded so discouraged tonight…but Luke, Marcus, and Donny are on top of Master Splinter. I have to trust them to do the right things for him – I have to. _

.


	2. Worried

***Donny-boy...you've got a lot of growing to do.**

* * *

Donatello yawned, rubbing bleary eyes as he walked into the kitchen.

His orange-masked brother glanced over at him from where he was working at the stove. "Hey, bro. Did you get enough sleep?"

Donny nodded. "Yeah, I'm just _stiff_. I need to do some stretching."

"Did Doc release you for anything else?"

"I bet I could get him to sign my permission slip today," he offered impishly. "I wasn't even that sick."

The younger turtle shrugged. "Doc usually knows best."

"Except when _you're_ the one being restrained, right?" Don shot back, going to check the coffeemaker. The timer was working properly (for once) and the delicious brew was already waiting for him.

"You gonna eat some food to round out your breakfast?" Mike teased. "I'm taking Sensei his tray, but I could fix ya something after that."

"Nah – I'll just make some toast for now."

"Toast: the breakfast of champions. Why don't you choke down some wheat germ if you really wanna waste a meal?"

The purple-masked turtle grinned. "I _can_ feed myself from time-to-time, Mikey."

"Sure you could, but you choose not to. I might sound like I'm kidding, but I'm kinda not. You need more than toast to get going again."

Donny repressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, Mommy."

"Better straighten up or I'll send you to your room, and no phone or computer for a week!"

Donatello shook his head. "Don't you dare joke that way. I have a lot of catching up to do from the work I missed _last_ week."

Mike wagged a finger at him. "All the more reason to eat a good breakfast."

"Mike, I'm going—" Donatello stopped mid-sentence when his cell phone vibrated, and he immediately looked at the clock. The call was a couple of minutes early, but he already knew who it was going to be. When he pulled the device off his belt, Mike made a surprise grab for it. The move was so unexpected that the orange-masked turtle succeeded in capturing the phone. "_Hey!_"

"Maybe I'll just hold onto this to ensure your cooperation." Mike glanced down at the facing and chuckled. "Don't worry, bro, I'll talk to your girlfriend for you."

"_Give_ me the phone!"

"Hang on a second, Donny!" Michelangelo held up an arm defensively before punching a button to answer the device. "Hello? Is this the party to whom I am speaking?"

"Mike, give it!"

His brother laughed. "Yeah, it's killing him, Jenna. Pretty fun to wa—"

Donatello lunged, pinning the smaller turtle in a flash. He _still_ had a battle on his hands to pry the cell phone away from Mike. "Let me _have_ it!"

"Shell, Donny, your _girlfriend's_ not going anywhere," Mike jabbed.

"Neither am I," he retorted darkly.

"Easy, bro! You want me to deliver Sensei's tray in one piece, don't you?"

"Phone. Now."

He released his grip on the cell phone, but the purple-masked turtle didn't get off him immediately. Mike squirmed uncomfortably on the floor. "You wouldn't turn your favorite little brother into a turtle-pancake, would you?"

Donatello smirked, but finally rose. "_Next _time."

Mike hurried across the room to get the tray, but cast one more grin over his shoulder before leaving the kitchen.

Don exhaled deeply as he sat down at the table and answered the phone. "Hey, Jen."

The young woman was laughing. "It sounds like you must be feeling better."

"Oh, I am," he assured her. "My flu wasn't serious to start with, even if convincing anyone else was impossible."

"I'm glad. I don't like to hear you sick when I'm half-way around the world."

Don snorted. "I'm surprised you didn't get any funny ideas about burning some more frequent flyer miles."

"You'd better stay well, or I might. On that note, how is Splinter doing?"

Donatello's breath caught in his throat guiltily. "He…um…he's okay, Jen. Still fighting the same cough, and he's pretty weak. We're doing everything we can to help, but whatever this bug is, it's not letting go easily."

"Well…are you concerned about this?"

"No, no, Jenna. It's under control. I wish I had the power to knock this cough out of him, but I don't. If we had the proper medication, or we knew what was causing this…" Donatello trailed off weakly.

Jenna was silent for a long moment. "I don't like the sound of this, Donny. You'll let me know what's happening, won't you?"

"Yes, Jen . We're still hoping that it could clear up on its own, but in the meantime, we're looking for a cause and a solution." Don sighed softly and changed the subject before she could press the issue any farther. "So. How is the trial going?"

Jenna made a scoffing sound. "You'd have to ask my dad. I haven't stepped within fifty feet of the courtroom, and I don't intend to. It's all a joke anyway."

"Are you okay?"

"I will be, when this farce is over and the terrorists can continue rotting in prison forever. I don't know how Michael sits there day in and day out. It's like my dad thinks their conviction might be overturned if he's not there to oversee the appeals process."

"He wants to make sure you're protected. I'd feel the same way."

"The courtroom is no place for a mutant ninja turtle, Don."

"It would probably end the proceedings faster."

"This is true. Do _you_ feel like hopping on a plane?"

"I could try, but I don't think I'd make it through customs when I get to Australia."

"What good is it being a ninja if you can't use your skills to get past a few government agents? I'm always the one coming to you. This relationship is beginning to feel one-sided."

Jenna's tone was teasing, but deep down, the purple-masked turtle agreed with her. Though he couldn't deny his intense feelings for the 23-year-old woman he'd met as a teenage boy, he also still felt like the relationship was an exercise in futility.

_There are so many things that I can't give her. Jen deserves more out of life than living underground in the dark. She's talented, smart, beautiful…she could probably have her pick out of a lot of guys. I can't help wishing it had never gone this far._

"Don? You know I was only playing with you, right?" Jenna's voice was tentative.

"Oh, yeah, Jen. I'm sorry. I'm a bit distracted."

"You're probably a bit _tired _too," she chided. "Take care of yourself, please? I know a lot of things need your attention, but you won't get them done if you're half-dead. Better to get your strength back first, and then tackle all of it."

"I won't try to do too much," he promised. "Keep me up to date on the trial, okay?"

Jenna huffed softly. "I'd rather not talk about it at _all_. I don't want to waste a moment's thought on those idiots."

"Any thought devoted toward keeping the bad guys in prison is good enough for me."

"Right…fine. You'd better be on your best behavior today, because I'm calling back later to talk to Mike. He'll tell me _anything_."

Donatello shook his head. Even if Michelangelo tried to lie to Jenna for him, he probably wouldn't pull it off convincingly. "I'll take it easy as much as I can. You know how things are around here."

"_Donny_…"

"What? Are you sending me back to bed?"

"If it were an option, I would. I bet you'd go willingly if _I_ was there to tuck you in."

The turtle sighed longingly. He was in love with the woman, and there was nothing he wanted _more_ than to be with her. Sometimes the force of his bottled up emotions made him feel like he would explode if he didn't tell her how much he missed her, but he often refrained.

_At some point, Jen will meet someone. She will. I'd rather have it happen naturally, with her falling for someone else, than to keep trying to pry her fingers off my wrist. When there's another guy in front of her, it'll be easier for Jenna to let me go._

"I love you," Jen said quietly, reminding him once more that she was still on the phone.

He winced. "I love you too."

"I hate it when you get quiet on me. It's harder to tell what you're thinking over the phone, Donny."

"Sorry I'm spacing out, Jen."

"Spacing out?" she repeated. "Your brain never _stops_ moving."

"I guess that's true."

"I'll call you later, okay? And I expect you to do more of the talking," she finished lightly.

"I will, Jen."

"Remember to take it easy. I'm checking up on you."

Don chuckled. "_Okay_, Jen. Bye"

When Donatello hung up the phone, he felt like a traitor. He hated not being up front with the young woman about how he felt, but he didn't want to make the attachment stronger.

"Have you eaten anything?"

Donatello jerked in surprise over the question that appeared out of nowhere. _When_ his blue-masked brother had entered the room was a mystery to him. He glanced over at the toaster, and looked back at Leonardo. "I'm working up to toast."

"April stocked us up on fresh stuff," Leo said, heading for the fridge.

"Did Doc ask you to force-feed me?"

"He might have dropped a few suggestions. You sure couldn't eat much last week. How about something more substantial, like Cream of Wheat?"

"Gag me."

"Is it just because you don't want me touching the microwave again?"

"That should be a given."

"The machine wasn't brand new when you brought it home! Isn't it possible the thing was defective?"

Don shook his head. "Some things don't go together, no matter how hard you try to line up the pieces, Leo. You and cooking are one of them."

His brother scowled at him over his shoulder, then resumed looking in the refrigerator. "How about yogurt? That should be good for you, if your stomach is up for it."

"Sure. I'll take whatever's in there."

Leonardo pulled out a small package and set it on the counter while he checked a cabinet. "Want me to add some granola?"

"Let's go crazy, Leo."

The blue-masked turtle took his time stirring the components together, lingering over the counter longer than Donny deemed necessary. Donatello studied his brother silently, looking for subtle clues of his mood.

"What's wrong?" he asked at last.

Leo came to the table and set a bowl in front of him. He fidgeted on his feet for a moment longer before sitting down too. "Is it my imagination, or is Sensei getting _worse_?"

Don looked down at the table as the desire to eat fled. "It's not your imagination."

"I didn't think so. What's going _on_, Donny?"

"We don't know, Leo. We're still searching for possible causes…we just haven't found a way to make a dent in it. Yet."

Leonardo sighed. "I'm worried, bro. Really worried. Do I have a reason to be?"

The purple-masked turtle clenched a fist unconsciously. "Not…not yet, Leo. Don't borrow trouble, okay? When we have real answers…we'll tell you."


	3. Heart

Raphael smiled wickedly to himself as he added a little more water to the bucket, and stirred the contents to check his consistency. _Okay, that should be plenty. It's time._

He grasped a bucket in each fist and headed back for the door that led to the den. Raphael stuck his head inside furtively, glancing through the hallway to the living area. There was no one in sight, so he carefully crept into the den. He'd no sooner stepped foot into the main room than his older brother appeared on the stairs.

Leonardo frowned. "Hey. Where did you go? And what's _that_?" He pointed to the buckets Raphael was toting.

He shook his head. "It's none of _your_ concern, Fearless."

His brother's dark eyes narrowed. "You disappear in the middle of the day, and I'm not supposed to care?"

The red-masked turtle rolled his eyes. "Would you quit inventing stuff to worry about? Shell, you're not happy unless you've got someone to lecture, are you?"

"I'm not lecturing you. I only asked where you went!"

"In case you ain't looked in the mirror lately, you're not my daddy."

"Why do you _always_ have to start something, Raph?"

"All I did was walk through the door! _You're_ the one jumping all over my shell!"

Leonardo glanced down the hall, annoyed. "Can you keep your big mouth down? We shouldn't disturb Sensei."

"Couldn't keep your 'perfect' status then, could ya?"

"Just _shut it_, Raph!"

"I wouldn't _have_ to if you'd leave me alone. Quit acting like you're in charge of everything! We're not kids, and none of us need a babysitter!"

"_Fine_, you do whatever the shell you want. Go get into trouble on the surface in broad daylight, and I'll just stay out of your life!"

Raph grinned. "That's all I ever wanted. You coulda saved yourself a lot of breath, Leo."

Leonardo's face appeared to be changing colors. For a moment Raphael thought he was going to scream, but instead the older turtle whirled on his heel and stalked down the hall toward the dojo. The wall shook from the force with which the door closed, and the red-masked turtle chuckled. _You ain't punishing _me_, bro. Stay in there as long as you want._

Raphael glanced toward the kitchen, unconcerned. _That might be a good place for me to set up, but I better figure out where the other guys are first. _He quietly crossed the living area, having already noticed the light coming from the cut-out window of Donny's lab. He peered into the space and saw his younger brother working at one of the computer terminals, his back facing him. _Hopefully Genius is actually feeling better. He's got such a love affair with those machines it's hard to keep 'em separated._

He glanced at his watch. _There's only about ten minutes until Mikey's show starts. He's gotta be around here somewhere, and I'm going to be ready for him._

Raphael started up the steps, and picked up the sound of running water. _No freakin' way. That'd be perfect. _With a renewed spring in his step he dashed up the rest of the stairs with his load. He hesitated outside the bathroom door for a beat, and then tried the door handle. _Unlocked. He's so trusting._

The red-masked turtle bit his lip to stifle a snicker and ducked inside the steam-filled bathroom. He held his breath as he snuck through the room, walking past one shower to go to the second. Raphael set down both buckets silently and picked up the stool from underneath the sink.

As he positioned himself by the shower curtain, his youngest brother chose _that _moment to start humming. Raphael almost lost it, swallowing a laugh as he waited for the water to stop. _Gotta be quick, or it won't work as well. C'mon, Mikey, you have to be close to finishing._

The second Raphael heard water slowing down, he hefted the first of the buckets over the curtain bar, finally busting out laughing over Mike's startled yelp. He couldn't resist ripping the curtain open so he could see Michelangelo dripping in mud.

"_Raph!_" he wailed plaintively.

Raphael grinned smugly while he unleashed his other bucket, marveling at the way mud exploded as it struck his brother's plastron and coated the tile behind him.

Mike choked and spit to get the grit out of his mouth. "Raph, my show!"

"Yeah, have fun with that, Pipsqueak." With another laugh he bounded out of the bathroom, leaving the disaster area to his youngest brother for the moment. Cleaning up after themselves was one of the biggest rules involved in pranking, but there was no one around to force him to do it immediately.

"RAPH!"

There was uncharacteristic rage in Michelangelo's voice, and it made Raphael pause at the top of the stairs. It was followed by a small crash, and the red-masked turtle turned around to go back. He opened the bathroom door to the sight of the muddied turtle on his knees by a broken towel bar, trying to clean his face with another cloth that was already dirty.

"Hold up, Mikey; you won't get nowhere with that." Raphael scooped up a clean towel and shoved it into his hands.

Michelangelo rubbed his eyes with a growl. "You're such a jerk! You only did this to ruin my plans!"

Raphael snorted. "Dang, Chucklehead. You can dish it out, but you can't take it, huh?"

His brother threw the towel back at him with a furious scowl. "You didn't do it for fun – you're just _mean!_"

"Like _you've_ never gone too far?" Raph challenged.

"Get out!" Mike ordered. "Get out of here NOW!"

"Whatever, Mikey – have it your way." Raphael left the bathroom with a shrug. _Can't say I didn't try to help his whiney-shell. He starts crap with me all the time, but God forbid someone else have a little fun._

He trotted back downstairs and was surprised to discover his Sensei sitting on the couch in the living area. "Master? What are you doing up?"

Splinter arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you suggesting there is some chance I would be able to sleep through the commotion?"

Raphael cringed. "Sorry, Sensei," he mumbled. "I know we got too loud."

"Did I hear Michelangelo a few moments ago? I was expecting him to come down. He asked me to watch his program with him."

The red-masked turtle cleared his throat awkwardly. "He's, uh...he'll probably be a while, Sensei. Mike will have to get cleaned up again first."

Onyx eyes pierced him knowingly. "Your brother sounded angry."

He flopped onto the other side of the couch. "'Course he is. Everybody's mad at me, as usual. Except for Genius, 'cause he's too busy to know I'm alive." _But he'd definitely side with Mikey if I pulled something on him_.

Splinter folded his hands in his lap with a quiet sigh. The breath sounded strained in his throat and nowhere near deep enough. "What happened, my son?"

"Nothing. I told you – everybody's mad at me. All I have to do is show up and people get ticked."

The rat gazed at him thoughtfully. "Do you believe your brothers are against you, Raphael?"

"They never cut me a break, Sensei. Leo's strutting around here like some kind of hall monitor, refusing to give me any credit for knowing what I'm doing. He really thinks I'm gonna get into trouble every time I leave the den. I know you chose him to lead us, Father, but he acts like I can't do anything right."

"Mmhm," Splinter murmured without commenting. "And Michelangelo?"

Raphael huffed with frustration. "He's _always_ pulling pranks on me, Master. Mike targets me way more than he does the other guys. But the second I start something, _I'm_ the bad guy. Why's it okay for him to attack me, but I'm not allowed to have any fun with him?"

"That is a fair question, Raphael," Splinter said calmly. "You may already know the answer though. Why do you think your youngest brother 'attacks' you in such a manner?"

"I dunno. Because he's a pain in the shell?"

"You can do better than that."

"I guess the Chucklehead likes attention, and he thinks his pranks are hilarious."

Splinter's low chuckle induced a coughing fit. "I can agree with your view," he managed finally, his voice weaker than before.

"Let me get you some water, Sensei."

"I am all right for the moment," he insisted. "Why do you expect Michelangelo became angry with you? That is not a typical reaction from him, is it?"

Raphael shook his head. "Nah. Mikey usually takes it really well, mostly because he deserves it." He was quiet for a few contemplative seconds. "He said I was being mean today."

Splinter gave him a pointed look and waited for him to continue.

"I _did_ ruin his show for him on purpose," Raph admitted. "Guess he's got a good reason to be mad at me, huh?"

"Your youngest brother is more perceptive than you realize, Raphael. He enjoys giving you a hard time and doesn't mind receiving one in return…so long as it is done with the right heart."

"Okay, I screwed it up. But I wasn't really _trying _to hurt him."

"Did you tell Michelangelo that?"

"No, Sensei."

"May I suggest that you try apologizing to your brother and clean up whatever mess you left behind so that he doesn't have to concern himself with it?"

Raphael got to his feet. "_Hai_, Sensei."

The red-masked turtle hurried to stuff a tape into the VCR to record the TV program already in progress, and then went into the kitchen to scrounge up a few supplies and clean water. By the time he came back to the living area, Splinter was already curled up against the edge of the armrest and his eyes were closed.

A ripple of apprehension lit through Raphael while he reached for a blanket that was bunched on the floor, and draped it over his Sensei. _He probably shouldn't even be out of bed. Sensei's not looking or sounding any better._

Raphael glanced at the stairs. After helping Mike, he would be faced with the distasteful task of dealing with his older brother. _Can't wait._


	4. Sharing

Leo felt defeated as he left the dojo. No amount of willpower could settle his mind, and his attempts to meditate had left him utterly frustrated. Fighting with Raph was nothing new; the two of them had practically made a career out of arguing over the years. With the added pressure of Splinter's illness, however, the tension felt worse than normal.

_I wouldn't care so much _what_ Raph did, if he'd just say something before he did it. _His unpredictable red-masked brother was giving him far more headaches than necessary. _But Raph has stepped up to help with Master Splinter too, particularly when the docs didn't want Donny to go near him because of those flu symptoms. All I really want is for Raph to communicate with me. I don't get understand why that's impossible._

The blue-masked turtle hesitated in his step when he heard quiet voices exchanging words, and peered around the corner of the hall into the living area. Donatello was kneeling on the floor by the couch, and Raphael was standing to his right. Leonardo opened his mouth to speak, but closed it as his red-masked brother shifted and he could see Splinter lying on the couch too.

"Sensei, you'd be more comfortable in your own bed," Raphael insisted.

"I told Michelangelo I would wait," the rat returned stubbornly. "He asks so little."

"Master, if Donny says you should be in bed, then I'm going with him." The gentleness in Raphael's normally gruff tone had the effect of dissipating some of Leonardo's annoyance on the spot. "Don't fight us on this. You know I'll take you there myself if you don't let Don help you."

"I cannot choose when to retire?"

"Yeah, it's your choice," Raph allowed. "You gonna walk there yourself, or do I have to carry you? You get to pick."

Splinter grumbled something that Leo couldn't hear, but then shifted to the edge of the couch, caving much faster than he'd expected.

"Give me your arm, Sensei," Donatello instructed.

Their Master gave the purple-masked turtle a hard look. "Are you going to try and make up lost time all in one day?"

Leonardo almost smiled. Going overboard because he'd missed a week with Splinter did sound like something Don might do, but in this case, even _he'd _allow it.

"I'm only going to listen to your lungs, Sensei," Donny said firmly.

Splinter mumbled something else under his breath as he shuffled toward the other end of the hallway with Donatello on his heels. Leonardo stayed where he was around the corner until the two of them had disappeared into his father's quarters. Leo cleared his throat as he entered the living area, and his other brother whipped around, startled.

"Where'd you come from? How long have you been there?"

The suspicion in Raphael's voice made Leonardo feel defensive, but he steadied his demeanor.

"Not long." When he walked farther into the room, his eyes were drawn to his brother's muddied pads and the dirt engrained into his cheek. "What did…how did you get so dirty?"

"I ticked off Mikey, and then we made up – _his_ style." Raphael shrugged and pointed to a pile of soiled towels at the bottom of the stair. "I came down to throw some stuff in the washer, and I got sidetracked."

Leo took a sharp breath. "Splinter wandered out of his room again?"

"Again?"

"I ran into him in the kitchen last night. He was even more resistant then than he was just now."

The red-masked turtle folded his arms across his plastron. "He don't sound good, Leo. I don't like this; it doesn't make any sense." Anger flashed in his amber eyes before he trained them downwards. "I swear this is getting worse. Why's it gotta be Sensei?"

There didn't seem to be a correct way to answer the question, so Leonardo didn't try. "I've noticed it too. Even the way he's fighting back, trying to hold on to some independence…it feels like he's overcompensating."

Raphael nodded, absentmindedly scratching the dried mud on the back of his neck. "Doc is still talking like they expect this thing with Splinter to blow over, but I don't know if he believes that." He raised his eyes and gazed at Leonardo solemnly. "You should have heard the way he sounded before we woke him up."

Leo swallowed. "I _have_ heard it, Raph. I've been listening…there's simply nothing I can do about it. I talked to Don earlier today, but he didn't tell me anything new."

Raph snorted. "Donny probably wouldn't tell you anything right away even if they _did_ know something else. What if this doesn't just blow over, Leo? What if it's more than that?"

Leonardo didn't trust himself to answer his brother without getting emotional, but he didn't feel like he could evade the question. "I'd rather not cross that bridge until we come to it."

"I'd rather not cross it at _all_."

Raphael's stubborn unwillingness to accept what was out of his control was comfortably familiar to Leonardo, and he managed to crack a smile. "I'm with you, Raph." He tapped his brother's shoulder and chuckled when he noticed the mud caked on his shell. "You need a shower, bro."

Raphael grinned suddenly. "You shoulda seen it though, Leo. I totally owned the Pipsqueak."

"It looks like you paid for it."

"It's not as much fun to tease Mikey when he's mad at you."

"It's not wise to provoke him either, is it? You _do_ realize that this probably isn't over."

"Of course it ain't over – this is _Mike_ we're talking about."

Leonardo laughed, and the red-masked turtle gave him a dirty look.

"Sure, you think it's funny. _I'm_ the one the Shellhead is always gunning for!"

"It's only because he loves you so much." Leo's snicker was cut short when a soft-solid object struck him in the back of the head and broke up in a dark cascade.

"I love you too, Leo!" the orange-masked turtle chortled from the overlook.

Leonardo clenched his jaw as he wiped grime off the side of his face. "Did he _really_ just hit me with a mud ball?"

Raphael guffawed loudly. "It's not mud, Leo – it's love!"

The blue-masked turtle sighed. "I'm blaming you for this."

"That's cool, Fearless. You go ahead and blame me, and I'll beat ya to the shower."

"You can _try_."

When both turtles raced for the stairs, a small pang of guilt resounded in the back of Leonardo's mind, but it was temporary. For a few fleeting seconds, he wanted nothing more than to embrace the normality of the moment.

* * *

Michelangelo tossed a piece of popcorn in the air and caught it expertly in his mouth. He repeated the action several times, going for a little more loft with each turn. The orange-masked turtle threw it higher yet, but when he opened his mouth the final time, he was rewarded with nothing but air. He jerked his head around to watch Leonardo scarf the popcorn kernel he'd just stolen from him. "Hey! That popcorn had my name on it."

The oldest turtle smirked. "I didn't notice. Are you saving any for the rest of us?"

"Do you think I'd let you guys go without?"

Leo gave him a skeptical look.

"I hid the bowl _one_ time, Leo, only to be funny!"

"Scoot over," the blue-masked turtle told him. "I'm sure you've already consumed your share of the popcorn."

Mike grinned. "I'll fight you for it! If you can take me dow—"

Before he'd even finished the sentence, Leonardo pinched a nerve in his shoulder and leveled him flat on the rug. "Okay. Now what I should I do?"

The orange-masked turtle laughed nervously. "You're not still mad 'cause I spread the love, are ya, bro?"

Leo smiled smugly. "I don't like to waste time being angry. It's more fun to plot revenge."

"I don't think it was that big of a deal, Leo."

His brother chuckled. "I may not come on as strongly as you, Mikey, but I like having a little fun of my own."

"Uh huh. And when exactly is this fun going to kick in?"

"I'll give you some time to wonder." Leonardo rose from his knees and dusted off his hands. "And the popcorn is _mine_."

Mike sat up on his elbows. "You sore because you can't make your own?" he teased.

"All I have to do is put a bag in the microwave, Mike. It's not rocket science."

"You're forbidden," Don announced from the hallway. "Don't even think about it, Leo. I've repaired my last microwave for a few months."

"I'm not taking responsibility for it shorting out!" the blue-masked turtle protested. "It was defective!"

"Maybe your cooking skills are defective," Mike murmured softly.

Leonardo towered over him threateningly. "You want to try saying that a little louder?"

"No," he squeaked.

"That's what I thought."

The instant the oldest turtle backed off, Mike leaped to his feet. "How's Sensei look, Donny? It was nice to see him eating a bit more."

The purple-masked turtle nodded. "The breathing treatment I gave him this afternoon had a positive impact on the function of his lungs. He sounds better tonight than he did earlier today. Hopefully he'll get some good sleep for a change."

Mike smiled. "Between you and the docs, how could he not get better? Sensei has to be close to the other side of this."

Donatello's swallow was _almost _imperceptible. "We're keeping an eye on him, bro. Master has had a couple of these breathing treatments now, and they definitely seem to make a difference in the short-term."

Michelangelo nudged his brother's shoulder. "It's not like anything could keep Sensei down forever. Ninjutsu masters are too cool for that."

Donny nodded again, but his smile was forced. "Master Splinter is strong, and he's been healthy for a long time. I still think he can beat this."

"That's right, Donny. Have a little faith."

Donatello's grin felt more genuine as he shifted to look at Leonardo. "Did you manage to salvage any popcorn from him?"

"I know nothing of this popcorn of which you speak," Leo said innocently.

Don groaned. "Not you too. Hasn't anyone in this family heard of sharing?"

Mike gave him a devious smile. "I can share the _love_."

The purple-masked turtle's expression became wary. "You can't attack _me_, Mikey. I'm still recovering!"

Michelangelo laughed. "You can't use that excuse forever!"

Donatello exchanged a glance with Leonardo. "Why do we let him do this? We outnumber him!"

"Maybe because I'm a master at setting up a false sense of security?" Mike suggested.

In the blink of an eye Leonardo swept him off the couch a second time, pinning him to the floor. "I'm not so bad myself, Mike."

The orange-masked turtle held out his hands in surrender. "You wouldn't gang up on a poor guy, right?"

Leo shook his head. "You'll _just_ have to wonder."


	5. Remembering

Splinter's sensitive ears twitched, orienting on the sound that had drawn him from sleep. The rat remained motionless and listened for the tell-tale signs that would identify who'd entered the room. The soft scrawl of a pen on paper lasted long enough for him to recognize his visitor, even if his scent didn't give him away. Only Donatello or one of their doctor friends would be taking notes, and each of them had a unique writing style. Luke's pen rarely left the paper, connecting letters together in a fashion that set him apart from the others.

"Why don't you have a seat, Dr. Barrows?" Splinter invited without opening his eyes.

The squeal of a chair and the sound of rolling wheels made the rat turn his head and blink slowly.

The blond-haired man smiled at him sheepishly. "I don't know why I bother trying not to wake you. I'll probably never pull it off."

"That does not mean I don't appreciate the effort."

Luke scooted closer to him. "Your throat sounds clearer. How does your chest feel this morning?"

"It is not as tight."

"Mind if I have a listen, Master Splinter?"

Splinter shook his head and mustered the energy to sit up. The sluggishness in his limbs was a feeling that he couldn't get used to, no matter how long it persisted. He attempted to mask his inner struggle for strength from Luke, hoping the man wouldn't detect it.

He knew that their human friends and his sons had his best interests at heart, but Splinter had accepted more than his fair share of nursing from _all_ of them. What he truly desired was to be seen for who he'd always been, and not the failing shell that his body was becoming. If Luke noticed his difficulty, the man chose not to say anything about it. Splinter sat still while the doctor positioned his stethoscope.

"Go ahead and take a good breath for me."

Splinter knew what was expected of him, and fought to take a deeper breath than he felt capable of. His chest shuddered with exertion, and Luke's hand rested tentatively on his back.

"It's okay," the man said softly. "Baby steps, all right?"

Splinter turned his head away, staring at the bed-spread. "I do not seem to be taking steps at _all_."

"Give it a chance, Master Splinter," Luke urged. "There's been a little improvement with your breathing, hasn't there? These things can take time."

The rat looked up wistfully, having decided to be honest with the man. "I cannot stay chained to this bed, Dr. Barrows. My sons need for me to take part in their lives…and the longer I remain here, the less alive I feel. I can hardly stand it, though I dare not say it to them. They are clinging to hope and looking for a recovery where it may not come."

"You don't know that," Luke said quickly.

Splinter held his gaze steadily. "I know my own body after all these years, my friend. I know what is normal…and that what strength I have left is still fading. I cannot speak this to my sons yet. I hope that you will allow me to speak to _you_."

It took Luke a few seconds to reply. "Yes…you can speak freely with me."

"I have no desire to burden you, Dr. Barrows…but there must be some way to rescind a few of my restrictions. I do not wish to waste away here day after day, as though I am imprisoned."

"But everyone is coming to _you_," Luke pointed out.

"It is not the same thing. I must exercise such freedom as I am still able. I want my sons to remember things the way they _were_, and not just how they are."

"Master Splinter, I…" Luke was at a loss for words.

"_Help_ me, my friend. I do not mind being in more pain, not if it means I can bring them some comfort."

Luke exhaled. "I'll see what I can do, Master Splinter…but I don't want you to give up hope either. We haven't seen anything to suggest that you can't recover from this."

"I would like to observe my sons in their sparring today," Splinter said, not acknowledging his words.

Blue eyes studied him mutely. Luke was a medical professional accustomed to running a team in the Emergency Room, and thereby his demeanor rarely gave away what he was actually feeling while at work. His practiced calm was intact, though certainly shakier than normal.

"I don't see any reason why you couldn't watch them for a while," the man said at last.

"Without you watching _me_?" Splinter suggested with a small smile.

Luke nodded. "I'll give you guys some space, Master Splinter."

"That is all I ask for, Dr. Barrows. Would you see if my students are prepared for my visit?" Splinter arched an eyebrow with a mock-menacing glare.

Luke chuckled. "I'll go tell them to duck and cover."

* * *

The smell of the dojo was like an awakening to Splinter. It was the room where he'd spent so many waking hours practicing and meditating; one of the places where he felt the most like himself. It had been almost two months since he'd darkened the doorway – two months since he'd last watched his sons engage in mock battles.

The atmosphere was much more subdued now than it had been in the past, with all four of the turtles already kneeling near his feet. Splinter had come to expect the seriousness from the blue-masked turtle, but the other three were not usually as somber. _Things are not settled, and I cannot pretend that they are. But I still mean to take what opportunity exists to encourage them._

He nodded at the turtles. "Take to your partners, and begin."

His sons gained their feet rapidly, separating into the two pairs Splinter had designated many years before. While all of the turtles took the time to spar with each other in turn, the regular teams remained to that day.

Splinter wasn't certain what to expect as he focused first on Leonardo and Raphael. The turtles were well-versed in their forms, but he'd been cut off from their workouts long enough that he wondered if their katas had suffered.

The smooth evasive maneuver his red-masked son employed to avoid Leonardo's first attack made Splinter smile instantly. The control of both strength and temperament in battle was something that he'd worked long and hard to ingrain into Raphael, and it was reassuring to see some of it played out before him.

The dance that unfolded over the following minutes of his two oldest sons exchanging and blocking blows in a seamless motion made the rat secretly sigh in relief. _I should have known that they were capable of working together and training alone. I do not why I still choose to see myself as their school teacher and them as my toddlers. They are young adults now, and they have learned extremely well. It does my heart good to see it with my own eyes, even if I _should_ have been able to trust their commitment to ninjutsu._

Splinter's breath caught briefly when he noticed a fraction of an opening in Raphael's defense. Leonardo's posture indicated that he would take advantage of it, but the blue-masked turtle never took the step, letting the chance to trip up his younger brother fall by the way-side.

Concern pulsed in the back of Splinter's mind. _For all of their growth, it does not appear that Leonardo has completely recovered from the disastrous spar with Donatello. He holds back when he should press forward._ He shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the fight that had ended so badly between his two sons. _I worried for both of their recovery: Donatello of his physical wounds, and Leonardo's emotional burden of injuring his brother. They have come a long way, and yet…_

Michelangelo's whoop distracted Splinter from his oldest sons, and he glanced over to the other pairing. The rat shook his head as the orange-masked turtle flipped Donatello over his back with a moved that was showy, but obviously _not_ ninjutsu.

He was tempted to berate his youngest for using a maneuver that departed from the appropriate fighting style, but the hopeful grin Mike cast over his shoulder as he pinned his brother made Splinter hold his tongue.

"Did you see that, did you see me, Master? I know it's different, but it's still kinda cool, right?"

Leonardo and Raphael ceased their own spar in favor of hearing what Splinter would say, likely expecting the lecture he'd considering giving Michelangelo.

"It is important to study hard and know the correct steps of _any_ art form, Michelangelo," he said slowly. "But after much learning and practice, the most important thing at the end of the day is to overcome your adversary. You have clearly done so."

"Oh, yeah!" Mike celebrated. "Who's the man?"

Donatello wrapped his leg around Mike's knee and used his momentum to roll over to take the dominant position. "You always _did_ open your mouth too soon."

The dojo was filled laughter, and Splinter's spirit felt warmer than it had in weeks.


	6. Company

Donatello swiveled in his desk chair, grinning when he saw _both_ Luke and Marcus hovering in the doorway to the lab. "Well, it's about time."

The dark-haired man grinned in return. "I know, right? My schedule has been crazy lately, but I think things are starting to settle back down."

Luke rolled his eyes at Marcus. "I keep telling Marc that he doesn't have to take every single orthopedic case that comes up."

"I haven't mastered the art of saying 'no' yet."

"You can say that again," the blond doctor muttered.

"Not everyone can be as elusive as you are, Doc," Don teased as he got to his feet, stretching his arms out behind his back.

"No wisecracks, huh? I've been working my tail off in the ER because of this new strand of that stupid flu. It's the wrong time of year for cases to be multiplying."

"When exactly do you have time to sleep, Doc?" Donny wondered. "You take the night shifts at St. Joseph's, and then you come right back down here most days."

"I know my limitations, Donny," Luke said dismissively.

Donatello shook his head. "Sure. You're the only person in present company who's incapable of overdoing it."

Luke smiled, but Don noticed that he didn't quite meet his gaze. The man was an expert at outwardly managing his emotions. The subtle signals that something was bothering Luke had taken the turtle a while to decipher, but he'd gotten better over the years. Donatello snuck a glance at Marcus. The dark-haired man was easier to read, but he wasn't picking up anything unusual from him.

"Well, do you want to?" From the exasperation in Luke's tone, it was obvious it wasn't the first time the man had asked him something.

"Sorry – could you repeat the question?" he requested sheepishly.

"Why do I need to repeat it? You were looking right at us," Luke countered.

"That doesn't mean I was _listening_," he said glibly.

The blond man sighed quietly. "I think we need to try something different with Splinter…find ways to make him feel more included, despite his physical limitations."

Don nodded. "Even watching us spar seemed to make him happy. I thought he was going to chew Mike out for deviating from the proper style, and he practically congratulated him instead. I know these last few months have been hard on Sensei. It's been difficult for _all _of us, but he's the one who has to bear the sickness. There have been times when I asked myself if there was an end in sight."

Luke inhaled sharply but didn't say anything at once.

"Okay, that's it," Donny said firmly. "What's going on with you?"

Luke shook his head a little too quickly. "Nothing's going on."

"Just the way you answered me confirms that there's something wrong, Doc." Donatello switched to Marcus again, but the other man looked as clueless as _he_ felt. He returned his unfaltering gaze to Luke. "Doc, it's _us_. You can tell us anything."

"No, I…I'm not sure I can, yet," Luke faltered. "Please don't ask me to. When I'm ready, when things are more…I'll come to _you_, okay?" The man's nerves were barely being contained.

"All right, Doc," the turtle agreed softly. "But you know we're here if you need us." Donatello wanted to press the man a bit harder, but he refrained.

"Yes, I know, Donny."

"But in answer to your original question, we'll do whatever we can to include Splinter more," Donatello continued. "We should have thought of this sooner."

"Don't be hard on yourself," Luke told him. "All of you have been helping…it's just that Splinter needs more."

"Do you feel any encouragement from the progress of the breathing treatments?" Donny asked.

"It's too soon to discern what the long-term effects might be," Luke replied. "I'm grateful for the immediate comfort it can offer him though. I think we should schedule the treatments on a regular basis for a while and see how it goes."

"I feel pretty good about them," the purple-masked turtle said cautiously, trying to gauge Luke's real thoughts on the matter. The man merely nodded, leaving Donny with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. _He's keeping something from me. I'm not going to put up with this much longer._

A knock on the door preceded his younger brother's entrance to the room. "Hey Geniuses," Mike greeted affectionately. "Who's hungry?"

"Starving," Marc spoke up. "I've been living off hospital food and take-out."

The orange-masked turtle grinned. "You've come to the right place, my friend. Follow me – your reservation is waiting."

Donatello trailed behind the men out the door and into the living area, where he immediately heard the strains of familiar soap opera music. He almost laughed out loud at the sight of Raphael sitting on the opposite side of the couch from their Sensei.

"…but does anything ever _happen_?" the red-masked turtle was asking.

Splinter's soft chuckle was a glorious sound to hear. "The story-lines take longer to develop than a mere hour, Raphael. Trust me; a good drama is worth waiting for."

Raphael crossed his arms skeptically, but he never took his eyes off the screen. "Yeah…I guess."

_If he's not careful, he could actually get reeled in to one of Sensei's stories. _Donny repressed another laugh at the thought and kept moving toward the kitchen with his friends. The smell of Mike's cooking was more welcome than it had been in days because of being sick.

"Have a seat," the youngest turtle invited. "Three bowls of my beef vegetable soup are coming up."

Marcus chose a chair quickly. "April will be mad you made it without her."

"Which is why I'm freezing part of the batch," Mike said matter-of-factly. "A good cook thinks of these things."

"It's only supposed to be a couple more days right?" Don asked.

"April gets back from DC at the end of the week," Marc supplied.

Luke's smile was amused. "And Marcus is _more_ than ready to see his girl."

The dark-haired man ducked his head shyly. "It's going to happen to _you_ too one of these days, Luke. I'll remember to give you a hard time."

Luke snorted. "Do you realize who you're talking to? I only run into women in the ER. It's not the place most of them dream of being picked up."

Donny laughed so hard that he choked on his soup. "There has to be _someone_ who's tried it, Doc."

The blond man shook his head. "Could you see it though? 'Okay, now that I'm done stitching you up, could I get your number?'"

"You could pose a continuing interest in their recovery," Don offered.

Mike smirked. "The girls can't resist a guy in uniform, right? You're passing up an awful lot of opportunities, Doc. Why dontcha take a break with a few of those nurses?"

"They all think I'm weird, Mike. I _am_ weird. I spend most of my time underground with vigilantes who have no regard for their own safety."

"Well, that's not really true," Donny protested. "If we didn't have _some_ regard for our safety, we'd all be dead."

"Would you like to get your journal out so we can calculate how _many_ times you all should have been dead by now? You guys have regard for safety as well as _I _fit in with regular society."

"Fitting in is overrated," Marcus said.

"I'm not complaining," Luke assured him and looked at Don and Mike. "I wouldn't trade this life or go back to the way things were before. I'm satisfied. I don't need anything, except for you guys to take care of yourselves better."

"How have we gotten into trouble lately?" Mike challenged. "We even managed to beat Donny's flu bug!"

"It _does_ seem like you're overdue."

Donny's eyes widened with alarm. "Are you trying to jinx us? You can't say things like that!"

"I'm only stating the obvious. You don't believe in those kinds of curses, do you?"

Donatello exchanged a meaningful look with his younger brother. "Better safe than sorry, Doc."

* * *

Don's eye ridges rose when they returned to the living area and found Leonardo glued to the television screen along with Splinter and Raphael. The purple-masked turtle cocked his head as he looked at the dramatic scene set inside a lavish room that apparently didn't possess lamps of any kind.

"_I have the results from the DNA test," _a dark-haired man proclaimed, pausing for effect.

"_Colton, maybe it's better not to know! We were happy before, and we could _still_ be happy," _a woman with flame-red hair cried passionately. _"Neither of us ever has to know!"_

"_It's too late, Angelica. I already know."_

"What does he know?" Don asked.

"Shh! Shut your mouth and we'll find out," Raphael hissed.

"_The results won't change how I feel about you, Colton. Nothing ever could."_

"_I love you, Angelica, but you deserve the truth. We _both_ do, after all these years."_

"_No matter what the test says, we haven't done anything wrong, Colton! Our only crime could be having the same father!"_

"That is disturbing on so many levels," Luke remarked.

"But they didn't know!" the red-masked turtle returned. "Neither of 'em did."

"_Angelica, you aren't my half sister. According to this DNA test, you're my fraternal twin."_

The music swelled and the scene slowly faded to black.

"That is all _kinds _of freaky," Raphael complained. "Why would her mom lie to her? Who encourages their kid to have a relationship with their brother?"

Splinter shook his head. "Angelica's mother didn't know about Colton."

"They're _twins_. How did the mother not know?" Leo demanded.

Splinter shook his head. "Because her husband is a wicked man. He had a mistress at the time who desired a child of her own, but was unable to conceive. He set up a fake medical procedure for his wife and intended to steal the unborn child. When it was discovered that she possessed two eggs, he only had the doctor take one to implant in his mistress. Thereby, Angelica's mother never knew she was a twin."

"Wait a minute." Donatello held up a hand and looked at Luke. "Stealing someone else's fertilized egg to implant in another uterus? Is that even biologically possible?"

"Most soap operas aren't based in science, Donny," Luke stage whispered.

Raphael fixed on the clock. "So they're really leaving off there today? Will it start back here tomorrow?"

"No, it will be a month before they have another new episode," Splinter answered.

Raphael huffed angrily. "Why the shell do they _do_ that? Are they just trying to torture people?"

Michelangelo snickered. "Guess you'll have to keep watching to find out."

"I'm only keeping Sensei company!" the red-masked turtle defended. "I'm not really into this."

"It doesn't sound like it either." Marcus kept a straight face.

"I would never turn away your company, my son."

The twinkle in Splinter's eyes made it impossible for Donny not to laugh, and he wasn't alone. Even the murderous look that swept the room from his older brother wasn't enough for regain the control that had finally been lost.

_Now this is more like it._

* * *

**::snicker:: Based on a couple of real soap opera plot lines no less...**


	7. Chase

Michelangelo reveled in the feeling of flying, the way the wind rushed by him and the tails of his mask whipped behind his head while he made the leap to the next rooftop. He flipped over a bank of skylights and picked up speed as he approached another ledge.

The orange-masked turtle spiraled toward his target, landing nimbly on his feet out of the twenty-foot free fall. He glanced over his shoulder and chuckled when he caught sight of his older brothers' shadows. Leo and Raph weren't _that_ far behind him, but he had a good lead, and he meant to increase it.

It was disappointing that the docs wouldn't release Donny for patrol yet, but Mike hadn't expected differently. _That's Doc for ya. As long as Don has a little cough, they're probably gonna keep being paranoid._

Mike trotted to the end of his rooftop and scanned the surroundings below. He peered down the city block, curious about the amount of foot traffic congregating around the only lit building on the street. The desire to continue racing ahead of his brothers faded as his intrigue about the scene below increased.

Michelangelo suddenly leaped off the ledge, traveling with purpose rather than abandon. He didn't want to ask his oldest brother for permission to take a closer look at the mysterious habits of the partiers, and since he was ahead of Leo, he wouldn't have to.

From his lower perch, the orange-masked turtle could hear the tantalizing beat of music wafting through the doors of the club that weren't spending much time closed. The line of people wanting to get into the establishment stretched all the way around the building, as they waited to be accepted or rejected at the door.

His red-masked brother suddenly skidded to a stop behind him, with Leo right on his heels. "What are you doin', Chucklehead?"

"Watching."

His brothers took a position on either side of him to look down, and Raphael shrugged.

"Watching _this_? I didn't drag my shell fifteen blocks to see some people getting drunk and acting like morons."

"If they're waiting outside to get into the club, they're probably not drunk already," Mike said logically.

Raphael shook his head. "You wouldn't catch me dead in a club like that," he muttered. "I mean, even _if _we could somehow pass for normal. There are tons of places all over New York where you don't wait in no line to get in, or have somebody decide whether you're good enough to party there."

Leonardo gave him a strange look. "Are you speaking from personal experience?"

"Don't tell me you ain't never imagined what it might be like, Fearless," Raph returned softly.

"Well, not bar-hopping per say, but—"

A gunshot shattered the air, causing all three of them to jerk in the same instant. The blue-masked turtle recovered in less time than it took Mike to blink, striding to the opposite side of the rooftop.

"That had to have come from at least a block out!" Raphael called after him.

"Which way?" Mike demanded, as though one of his brothers could have seen something already.

A scream that followed was short-lived, drowned out by the sound of squealing tires on pavement. Leonardo's posture went from rigid watchfulness to readiness in another split second, and he pointed at the building across from them. "East! Let's go!"

There was no time to question his brother or to wonder how they would track down someone who was likely fleeing in a vehicle. The oldest turtle had already put on a burst of speed that had Michelangelo straining to catch up. Within a few moments the rooftop playground changed back into their unique version of a commute to the "office".

Mike felt his heart rate increasing faster than it had during their earlier race. He scanned the street with nearly every step he took, searching for the site of the original crime. The scene below was obviously marked by the clustering bystanders, but Leonardo didn't seem interested in stopping.

It was an odd feeling for Michelangelo to be running at the back of the pack, but he didn't fight to overtake his brothers, choosing to follow their lead instead. The youngest turtle only slowed down enough to catch a glimpse of someone lying facedown in the street. With a wince Mike kept going, hoping that the victim had survived the attack. The people standing by had surely already called 911. _But that doesn't mean the cops will get here in time to catch up with the shooter. We've gotta catch this guy!_

The unmistakable sound of metal crunching metal made the orange-masked turtle cringe, but his feet never wavered. He lunged over a flashing neon sign, careful to keep his oldest brother in his line of sight.

While he was squinting to orient on Leonardo's form in the darkness, the blue-masked turtle unexpectedly took what appeared to be a suicidal leap. Even Mike's eyes widened as he watched his brother descend several stories without holding onto a single thing, only to hook an arm over a fire escape near the ground at the last-minute, and swing around the front side of the building.

Michelangelo headed to the ground with his next opportunity, diving to a platform about thirty-feet beneath him. He didn't hesitate on the balcony, rapidly jumping to the fire escape across from him, and then down on top of a closed dumpster.

Mike adjusted the hood of his sweatshirt as he rounded the corner, yanking it farther over his forehead. He'd taken four strides when the muscular shadow of the red-masked turtle emerged from another alley in front of him, and they _both_ picked up speed at the report of more crunching metal.

The orange-masked turtle cracked a grin at the sight of a stalled-out black sedan with a dented roof, and a hood that was faring no better. He didn't see any sign of his oldest brother, but there _was_ someone hastily exiting from the car's passenger side. The street-light glinted coldly off the metal of the weapon the stranger was drawing, and Mike's hand quickly found a nunchuck.

A shot rang out as he and Raphael circled the vehicle, forcing the turtles to go opposite directions. Mike never took his eyes off the gunman, who seemed emboldened by their "retreat". The man plowed forward to meet the red-masked turtle. Though he knew Raphael wouldn't shy away from the attack, it made more sense to take the bad guy down before he could get another shot off.

Michelangelo stayed silent and low to the ground as he pursued the man, and then lunged to capture him. He used his full weight to bring the assailant down, concentrating the brunt of his force on the man's arm to control his weapon. The turtle felt the stranger's shoulder crack under the pressure, heard the man cry out, but barely lessened his hold until the gun clattered out of his hand.

Raphael growled as he stopped the gun's flight with his foot, and fixed the figure with a frightening glare. "You picked the wrong place and the wrong _time_ for a drive-by, punk."

The man only whimpered in response.

Mike grinned down at him. "Don't worry, dude. The cops won't be _that_ far behind us. They'll be here to pick ya up in a few minutes."

His taunt had the effect of bringing the man back to life. Mike's captive scrabbled uselessly against the pavement, cursing at the turtle.

"You got him, Mikey?" Raphael asked calmly.

"Does it look like he's going anywhere? He's my pancake, Bro."

"Then stay put for a second, okay?" Raphael dashed a few steps past him, searching the shadows. "Leo! Where…"

Mike craned his neck to see what the red-masked turtle was doing, but Raphael had paused in his step.

"Looks like Leo got his man too! How come they didn't bring anyone else for _me_ to play with?"

"You can have a turn with my guy if you want!" Mike shot back. "Do you see Leo?"

"He's coming this way. How about you give me some room, and I'll get _this_ idiot tied up?"

Michelangelo sat up to give Raphael access to lash together his prisoner's hands and feet, and watched for his oldest brother to reappear. Leonardo finally slipped around the side of the disabled vehicle, clutching another figure over his shoulder. The second man only had single head-wound that Mike could see, but his body was limp as Leo slung him down on the sidewalk.

"He didn't have a gun, but he tried to knife me. I can't believe he thought he'd get away on _foot_," Leo scoffed.

Another curse erupted from the man Mike was straddling. "Who ARE you bastards?"

Raphael twisted the former gunman's injured arm a little harder, bending close to his ear. "We're nobody you wanna try pissing off again."

"You got no right—"

"_You've_ got no right to try to take someone's life, but that didn't stop you, did it?" Leonardo interrupted smoothly.

Mike cocked his head at the sound of distant sirens. From the way Leonardo stiffened, it was obvious he'd heard them too.

"Disappear!" the blue-masked turtle ordered.

Michelangelo leaped to his feet and ran after Leonardo as he dashed into an alley. Leo already seemed to have an exit route in mind, like he'd had an hour to plan their every move. His oldest brother motioned to a grate on the other side of the alley, and led the way back underground.

Mike dropped into the tunnel after him and held out a fist. "Nice catch, Bro."

Leo bumped his fist in return. "You too," he replied, his eyes flicking to Raphael as the other turtle joined them. "Did either of you come close to getting shot?"

Raphael snorted. "Yeah, Leo, the guy almost killed us. God knows we can't handle anything without you holding our hands."

"I never said that, Raph!"

"Let's recap, okay? _You're_ the one who dive-bombed off a building, played leap-frog with a car and went after the driver by yourself! He coulda been the one holding the gun, did you ever think of that? But you're still waiting for one of _us_ to screw up! Makes a lot of sense, Leo." Raphael brushed past Mike and stalked down the passageway, disappearing into the darkness.

Leonardo stood still for a few seconds longer, his brow furrowed in the low light filtering through the grating above them. "I can't say anything right, can I?"

Mike shrugged. "Let's just go home, Leo."


	8. Backing Off

Leonardo woke up slowly, praying that it was earlier in the morning than it _felt_. He glanced at the glowing numbers on his watch and sighed. _6:48_. _Which means I'm _already_ a little late._ Despite arriving home at a decent hour, sleep had been extremely difficult. His red-masked brother had avoided their room altogether, leaving Leo to wonder if Raphael had gone back out. He'd refused to go looking for him, regardless. _I didn't want to fight anymore last night. Things have felt so tense lately. We're fine one moment, and Raph is exploding in the next. It's like living with a ticking time bomb._

Leo peered over the edge of the bunk, and saw his brother buried under his blankets. _So he _did_ eventually come in. _He didn't _want_ to wake Raphael up, but the red-masked turtle was supposed to be responsible for taking care of Splinter that morning.

"Raph? Wake up." When his brother didn't respond, Leo nudged his side. "C'mon, Bro. It's time."

Raphael exhaled shakily. "Gimme a couple more minutes," he murmured sleepily.

"Okay. I'm going downstairs to get Sensei's tea started."

"All right. I'll be down in a little bit."

The blue-masked turtle silently descended the stairs and crossed through the empty living area into the kitchen. He filled a kettle with water and set it to boil, then reached into the cabinet to retrieve a box of tea leaves. Leo leaned against the counter while he waited for the water to heat up, dropping the container of leaves on the top of it. _I'm so sick of being tired. It's probably too much to ask for one day of peace though, isn't it?_

When the kettle was ready he threw in the leaves to steep, and sat down at the kitchen table to wait for Raphael to appear. He bleakly watched the minutes tick away on the clock. The tea had been submerged for _more_ than long enough, but there was no sign of his brother coming downstairs. Leonardo rolled his eyes and got to his feet. _I'll take Sensei his tea myself and let him start on it while I make a little breakfast. It's not worth messing with Raph now._

The living area was still cold and devoid of life when he reentered the space and headed for his Master's quarters. Leo heard the sound of Splinter's wheezing before he even opened the door.

"Sensei? Are you all right?"

The rat didn't look up while Leonardo entered the room, but his small frame was straining, working harder for oxygen than he should have needed to.

"Sensei, can you _breathe_?" Leonardo hurriedly set the tea on the side-table and helped his Master sit up. The violence with which the rat shuddered made fear leap up in the turtle's gut.

"Don—Don—" Splinter gasped.

The blue-masked turtle straightened instantly. "I'll get him, Master!"

He dashed out of the room and exhaled sharply when he saw Donny and Mike already on the overlook. "Don! Sensei needs you – he's having serious trouble breathing!"

The purple-masked turtle was down the steps in three strides, but Mike hesitated.

"Leo, should I call someone?"

Leonardo shook his head. "Just hold on a second, Mikey! I'll be right back."

By the time he returned to Splinter's quarters, his younger brother already had an arm around their Sensei and was calmly assessing his condition.

"…remember, just like Marcus said. Relax your neck and shoulders, Master. Keep your mouth closed and breathe in for a couple of seconds through your nose."

Leo knew that he was serving no purpose, but he stood rooted to his spot anyway.

"Okay, now purse your lips and breathe out…out…All right. That's long enough. Let's do that a couple more times, and I'll set up another breathing treatment for you."

Instead of connecting with Donatello, Splinter's eyes sought out Leonardo. "My son…go." The command was clear, even if there wasn't real strength behind it.

"Father, I don't want to leave you," Leo said quietly.

"I said _go!_" The way the rat choked on the last word made Leonardo cringe.

Donny gave the blue-masked turtle an apologetic glance. "Leo, it's okay. I'll tell you if I need help. Just go. It's okay," he repeated.

Leonardo backed out of the room slowly, shoulders slumping as though a hundred pound weight was crushing them.

"Leo? What's going on?" Mike demanded.

He gazed at his youngest brother for a long silent moment. Throughout the five-month ordeal with their Master, Mike had been the most positive influence by far, a fact that didn't surprise Leo in the least. The cold fear reflecting in the orange-masked turtle's eyes made him realize something in an instant.

_Mike's been hiding his concern – that's all…Doing his best to put on a good face for everyone and hold onto hope. What am I supposed to say to him? How can I make him feel better when I can't even do that for myself?_

"Leo?"

"He's having some trouble breathing this morning, that's all. Don knows what he's doing." Leonardo felt his brother's gaze tracking him as he walked to the couch and dropped heavily on a cushion.

"Leo, are you scared?"

He wasn't ready to handle the question and couldn't control his rising emotions. Leo rubbed his eyes fiercely to mask the tears that almost escaped and looked over at Mike. "Yeah…I am, but it's more than that." Leonardo sighed deeply. "I want to be there for Sensei, but…he's pushing me away. And I don't know if he just doesn't want me to see him like this, or…"

Leo trailed off, resting his forehead in his hand. "I'm so tired, Mike. I can't do anything for Sensei. I can't even hold this team together. Raph is barely sharing a room with me. I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up."

Michelangelo sat down on the edge of the couch. "Leo, I don't…You're always kinda taking too much on yourself. _Everyone's_ got a breaking point, and that means you do too. We're all under pressure, right? And we deal with it in different ways. I don't think Sensei's really trying to get rid of you, Bro. As for Raph…that chip has been on his shell for _years_."

Mike paused for a second. "Now, I'm not saying you don't need to try to get along with Raph better. But you shouldn't take all the blame for it either. Everything doesn't rest on you, Leo."

"Mikey, sometimes I can't help feeling like it _does._"

* * *

Leonardo was half-heartedly watching Mike taking his car for a spin on the Xbox when Raphael finally came down the steps. He couldn't resist glancing at his watch, and clenched his jaw furiously when he realized that it was almost 11am. His red-masked brother's gaze met him, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from saying something.

"I didn't mean to fall back asleep," Raph said, already defensive. The tone of his throat was scratchy, as if he'd had a long night of his own.

"Doesn't matter," Leo said evenly. "We took care of things."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"I didn't say you _did_, Raph. Please don't put words in my mouth. I didn't do anything to you."

Raphael's expression faltered. "I'll take my turn tonight, okay?"

The blue-masked turtle nodded stiffly. He didn't want to ask his brother any questions, but there was something very _odd_ about the way Raphael was carrying himself as he shuffled across the living area. "Did you get any real sleep last night?"

Raphael stopped in his tracks. "I'm _sorry_, Leo." The apology dripped with disdain. "I already told you I'd take my turn."

"That's not what I asked you. Where were you last night? Where did you go?"

"What does it matter? I'm _here_. I made a mistake this morning, an honest mistake. Can I make one of those without having to play twenty questions with you?"

Leonardo clenched his fists at his side and didn't respond.

"Am I free to leave the room, or do you wanna get all of this outta your system at once? You might have more energy to lecture me if you tried it in stages, Leo."

Leonardo closed his eyes briefly. "Your attitude toward me makes no sense. I didn't ream you out. I didn't demand answers. You look rough, and I was wondering why –that's all!"

"You don't have to know everything," Raphael retorted, and headed for the kitchen without looking back.

The oldest turtle had a hard time not plunging his fist against the coffee table. "Am I doing this wrong? Am I not supposed to care _what_ Raph does, Mike? I'm about to go _insane_!"

"Let him go, Leo," Mike said quietly. "If something's wrong with him, it'll come out eventually. Just let him have his space."

"He can have all the space he wants, because I'm sick of screwing with him." Leonardo spun to leave the room, and was surprised when his brother caught him by the arm.

"Leo, don't take this personally. It's probably not about _you_."

Leonardo shook his head. "He has a problem with me whether I ask him questions or I simply let him slide. You were sitting here the whole time, Mike. How is it _not_ personal?"

Mike didn't release his wrist. "Don't give up on him, Bro. Remember we're all dealing with things in our own way."

The blue-masked turtle sighed and put his other arm around Michelangelo. "We're a team, Mikey. That's not going to change. I'm not writing Raph off – I'm just trying to give him what he wants, which is for me to lay off his shell for a while. We'll be okay, Bro."

His youngest brother relaxed under his touch, so Leonardo squeezed his shoulder for good measure. "Thanks for listening to me."

Mike smiled weakly. "We're all here for you, Leo. You can let us carry some of this."

"I'm trying, Mike. I really am."


	9. Symptoms

Raphael leaned his forehead against the kitchen table, massaging his temples futilely. Even the cold glow being cast by the overhead light felt too bright at the moment. If he'd had it his way, the red-masked turtle wouldn't have gotten up even after waking for the second time. His head was pounding, his throat felt absolutely raw, and he was so exhausted that it seemed he was still half-asleep.

As much as Raphael enjoyed a few hours of sleep, there were many times when he didn't get much of it. The practice went hand-in-hand with being part of a team that patrolled the streets after dark and a night-owl in general. He could normally function well on about four-five hours of sleep; at least long enough to get him through a morning practice and a few daily responsibilities before he could sneak away to rest in the afternoon.

Raphael really hadn't _meant_ to fall back asleep after Leonardo had woken him, but he knew he was going to pay for it, one way or another. He groaned loudly when he heard the kitchen door swing open. _Start the lecture in three, two—_

"Raph? What are you doing, Bro?"

_Mikey? Great. He'll be only slightly less annoying._

Raphael raised his head from the table. "I'm finding the answer for world hunger. What's it _look_ like I'm doing?"

The orange-masked turtle gazed back at him, looking more thoughtful than Raphael would have expected. "You want some coffee?"

Raph grimaced distastefully. He didn't usually care for the stuff anyway, but the mere suggestion of it made his stomach churn oddly. "Nah…I don't think so."

"Maybe you'd feel better if you ate something."

"There's nothing wrong with me, Mikey. I'm just tired. I'd go back to bed, but then I'd _really_ hear it from his lordship," he muttered.

Michelangelo pulled out a chair and sat down. "I don't like to get between you and Leo—"

"It's better for your health if you _don't_," he interrupted sharply.

"Let me finish, okay? Now Leo didn't start anything with you this morning. He didn't even tell you off for oversleeping. You came downstairs _expecting_ him to be mad at you, and then pushed him until he was."

"I don't _have_ to push him, Mike! He always assumes that I'm up to something and thinks he's gotta keep an eye on me. Newsflash – I didn't _go _anywhere else last night! I just didn't feel like sharing the space with him, so I didn't."

"Raph, don't you get it? Leo's scared for you. It's the only reason he asks questions and stays on your case. He wants to know that you're safe."

Raphael extended both arms in frustration. "_How_ am I not safe?"

"He wants to make sure you _stay_ that way. Shell, Raphy, we're all dealing with a lot around here. No one knows what's going on with Sensei, and Leo is worried. Like not sleeping, hardly eating _worried!_"

The red-masked turtle's brow creased as he gave Mike a longer look. "I know he hasn't been sleeping that great, but I didn't notice anything else." _I wasn't trying to_, he admitted inwardly.

"With Sensei sick, it puts pressure on him, Raph…even more than Leo's used to carrying around. Don't give him a bunch of things to worry about, okay?"

Raphael glanced down at the table. "I won't do it on purpose, all right?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Michelangelo nodded.

"Sure you don't want me to make you anything?"

Raph pushed his chair back from the table. "I'm just gonna have some cereal."

"Don't you go eating all my Sugar Bombs, Raph!"

"What are you worried for, Chucklehead? I know you've got a secret stash down here somewhere."

"You've seen nothing, and you know nothing."

"I'm gonna find it one of these days, Mikey. There're only so many places you could hide a cereal box."

"Who says it's in the box?" His little brother grinned smugly, but his eyes went wide as he realized he'd probably said too much.

Raphael chuckled, and the low sound felt like it was grating his throat. "It will be mine; oh yes, it _will_ be mine."

"You'll be sorry if you do find it," Mike said warningly.

"_I'll_ be sorry?"

"A good treasure is worthy of protection," his brother told him solemnly.

"Protection? I'll take you on any day of the week, Shellhead."

Mike's smile returned full force. "Don't go looking for trouble, or you'll regret it. Some things are better off left alone."

* * *

Raphael spent the majority of the day avoiding both Leonardo and the dojo. He wasn't particularly irritated with the blue-masked turtle anymore, but he also didn't want to get roped into katas when he was feeling this crummy.

A number of hours had passed without any relief, and his throat was actually hurting _worse_. Raphael had a sneaking suspicion that he'd picked up whatever flu bug Donny had just finished dealing with. _The Genius did okay with it, though. Not much appetite for a couple of days, and the docs made him rest and stay off the computers. But they kept him away from Sensei too._

Raphael looked over the back of his recliner, seeking out the door to his father's quarters. _The docs probably only restricted him to be safe. They didn't know if Don was contagious or not…and I don't have the cough he did. How do _I_ know what this junk is? I don't. But it might be better to give Sensei some space until I find out for sure. _He winced suddenly. _I told Leo I'd take his turn with Splinter tonight. Shell. I gotta find some way to handle this properly. _

He climbed to his feet slowly and shuffled across the room toward the lab. Raphael cleared his throat painfully before entering the room. His purple-masked brother was hunched over a keyboard and resting his chin in one hand while he scanned the computer screen in front of him.

"Whatcha up to, Genius?"

Donatello spun around in his chair as though Raphael had caught him in the middle of a guilty act. "Um…nothing. I'm reading a few things and trying to form some theories," he murmured evasively. "What's up with you?"

For a second, Raphael considered telling his younger brother that he didn't feel well, but something about the tall stacks of paper on Donny's desk made him hesitate.

"Not much. Are you at some point where you could take a break though? I'm supposed to sit with Sensei tonight, but with the way he's been struggling today…I thought you might do him more good."

Donatello's expression remained unchanged, but Raphael noticed his muscles tense. "I understand that it's not easy to see him like this, Raph….but you shouldn't avoid him either."

"I'm not going to. Will you do this for me, just fer tonight? I'll make it up to you, _and_ to him."

The purple-masked turtle nodded. "Yeah. I've been staring at this screen for too long, in any case." Don got to his feet, stretching his legs. "Are you okay, Raph? You can talk about this, y'know. None of us enjoy watching Sensei suffer."

The red-masked turtle didn't look at him. "I…I will, Donny, but…"

"When you're ready. Try not to stray too far in the meantime, huh? We need you, Raph."

Raphael shook his head at once. "I'm not leaving you guys to deal with this. I ain't gonna abandon Splinter _or_ you."

Donny gave him a hopeful smile. "That's all I need to know."

"And, Don? Could you…not tell Leo that I asked you to do this? Maybe make some excuse for why you're there?"

His brother's forehead creased. "Raph…"

"I'm not asking you to lie outright. _If_ he was to ask, you could come up with a good reason, couldn't you?"

"I can think of something, but—"

"I'm sorry for asking you to do that, Bro, but I don't need Leo on my shell."

"Raph, why can't you tell him what's going on? Nothing stays hidden down here for long."

"He automatically assumes the worst about me, Donny, and I don't want to deal with it tonight." _He also don't need to worry about me without a good reason…and neither do you._

"You can't make a habit of this," Don said firmly.

"I'm not gonna. Please, Donny?"

Donatello's eye ridges rose at the use of the word "please". "All right, Raph, I'll do it your way. For now."

The red-masked turtle sighed in relief. "Thanks, Genius."

"Yeah, yeah," Don said under his breath, leaving the room.

Raphael felt bad for asking his brother to deceive Leonardo, but he only needed to buy a little time. _I could try to get an opinion from one of the docs, but Luke would probably think he needs to rush down here. Marc on the other hand…_

He sat down in one of the desk chairs, spinning half-way around as he thought about calling the man to reveal the symptoms he was dealing with. _I guess I have to start somewhere._


	10. Options

Splinter _looked_ liked he was asleep as Donatello entered his quarters, but the slight twitch of the rat's ears suggested otherwise.

"Good evening, Sensei." Don smiled warmly when Splinter opened his eyes. "Are you hungry?"

"Not exactly, but your brother's soup may still have the power to tempt me." Splinter returned his smile faintly.

"It's nice to know that your senses are as sharp as ever." Donny set his tray down on the small side table. "Mike made a huge batch, so you could be eating this for two weeks," he teased.

His Sensei sat up partway on his side, pausing to summon the energy in order to rise the rest of the way.

"May I, Master?" Donatello enjoyed seeing his father reassert his desire for independence, but Splinter also needed to accept help when it was required.

The rat nodded wordlessly, and the purple-masked turtle adjusted the cushions behind him so that he could sit up easier. Once he was sure that Splinter was settled, Donny carefully rolled the tray table over the bed, and took a seat in the chair next to him.

Splinter fingered his tea cup first, sipping it slowly. A few moments of silence passed between them, and his Master looked up once more. "I enjoy your company, my son, but I fear it will take me a while to get through things. You need not feel like you have to stay the entire time."

Don chuckled, intentionally sounding light. "I don't exactly have somewhere else to be, Father. I _like_ being with you."

Whiskers twitched as he set his cup down. "You always have something to keep you busy, Donatello."

"_Too_ busy," he replied. "I'm good at loading up on several tasks on at once, whether necessity requires it or not. Right now, I just want to be here. You're a good excuse for me to take a break."

Splinter laughed softly. "Then I really cannot discourage you, can I?"

"You don't have to bother. Take your time, Sensei. No rushing."

The room was quiet as Splinter worked through his soup, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Donatello never felt like he had to talk constantly in his Master's presence. Splinter enjoyed the peace, and spending time together didn't have to mean making a lot of conversation.

Splinter was a little over half-way through his bowl when he fixed Donatello with another gaze. "Tell me, my son, how is Jenna-chan faring at home?"

The mention of the woman's name made Donny smile without meaning to. "She's enjoying the time with her parents. I'm glad she decided to stay in Australia for a while after she graduated from NYU last winter. Sometimes I've felt guilty about the amount of time she's spent in the States. Victoria and Michael are the ones who rescued her from foster care and gave Jen a new life. It's almost like they're being left behind now."

Splinter's furred hand stretched out toward him. "At no point in time have you _asked_ her to come to you, Donatello. In memory serves correctly, you have done the opposite."

The purple-masked turtle looked down at the floor. "Master, we've been down this road a thousand times, and I still don't have an answer. Just because I don't ask her to give up everything for me doesn't mean she won't try to. Jenna's stubborn like that."

"As _you _have proved to be," his father pointed out.

"What would _you_ do, Master, in my position? I love Jen. I'd be lying to say that I don't. She fits in with our family and she says she wants to be here. But the amount of things she'd be giving up…Father, it's mind-blowing."

"This is not the kind of decision you should make _for_ her, Donatello. If a course of action is to be decided, it should be discussed between the both of you."

"What about her family, Sensei? We can't possibly stay together without her parents ever finding out about us. Is Jenna supposed to live a bi-continental life until the day she dies? That's ridiculous."

"I no more have the answer than you do, my son. But I repeat, this is not something for you to take charge of on your own. You are not the only one inside this relationship. Jenna-chan's feelings need to be considered."

Donny groaned under his breath. "This isn't helping."

"Would you prefer that I made the difficult decisions _for_ you?"

The turtle gazed at him hopefully. "It'd be easier if you did."

Splinter shook his head. "It is not my place…nor could I _tell_ you to break things off with Jenna-chan in good conscience."

"Okay, so you're not going to tell me what to do. Could you give me a clue what _you_ would do?"

"I believe I would keep my options open."

"Options?"

"There may come a day when introductions could safely be made, Donatello. There is no guarantee that Jenna-chan would be forced to give up her parents in order to be with you."

"You'd consider allowing…"

"Donatello. Though windows may be few and far between…there exists a right time and place for the _right_ people to enter our limited world. Has our family not grown in the last two years alone? Jenna-chan and Dr. Barrows arrived in the same evening, and then Dr. Sloan later."

Don snorted. "Marc wasn't introduced. He broke in the door."

"That is not my point. We have placed a tremendous trust in each of these lives. I do not know if the appropriate moment will come to meet Jenna-chan's parents, but I will not say I am opposed to it."

The purple-masked turtle sighed. "What am I supposed to do? Invite her to bring them on down?"

"I do not suggest that you try forcing anything, my son. But if the chance arises, and you discern it to be the right time…I would not let it pass."

Donatello nodded bleakly.

Splinter took a shaky breath. "What do you tell her of me?"

Don stiffened. "Not very much," he admitted. "She knows that you're sick and you've been fighting some bug for months. I don't want to go into major details, not with her in Australia. I don't see how it would help anything."

"Mmhm." Splinter's gaze was thoughtful. "I would not want Jenna-chan to have great reason to worry either. And it is hard to be specific when there are things you do not know. But at the same time…"

While his father searched for words, Donatello decided to change the subject, even if he knew he was in for a fight.

"Sensei, have you given any more thought to the biopsy that Doc suggested?"

Onyx eyes narrowed in a fraction of an instant. "I have made my feelings clear on the matter."

"I know you have, Father, but you need to think about this logically. What do we have to lose by taking a biopsy of your lungs? If there's nothing there, we can rule a lot of things out."

"And _if_ you find something, there will be no end of procedures. I know you too well, my son. I ask only to be comfortable. I do not want to become your project."

"You wouldn't be a _project_, Sensei. We're trying to help you. I'm respectfully asking you to reconsider. If the roles were reversed and it was one of _us_ sick, would you still want to blow off the biopsy?"

The rat's silence was now deafening, but Leonardo's raised voice filled the void a moment later.

"_Are you KIDDING me? Did you actually ask Donny to cover for you just so you could sneak out again?"_

Donatello grimaced. He knew Leonardo had seen him enter their Sensei's quarters, but when the blue-masked turtle hadn't challenged him, he thought it was unnecessary to offer an explanation. Apparently Leo had arrived at his own conclusions.

"_Who said I was leaving?" _the red-masked turtle retorted. "_Every time I've shown my face today, you think I'm doing something wrong!_"

_"Why are you _dressed_ if you're not leaving?"_

_"Why don't you back up out of my face before I _do_ something about it?"_

Donny swallowed, backing away from Splinter's bed. "Excuse me, Sensei."

"Donatello…"

"No. I have to stop this." He quickly left the room, not wanting to hear any further discouragement.

The purple-masked turtle stalked to the bottom of the stairs where his older brothers were obliviously arguing. "What the shell is _wrong_ with you two? Sensei can hear everything you're saying!" He barely kept his voice down.

The seething glare his brothers were sharing didn't falter.

"I didn't start this, Donny," Raphael said through clenched teeth. "_He_ did – because he knows everything!"

"You're unbelievable," Leo hissed. "One minute I think you're finally growing up and being a real member of this family, and the next one you're back to _only_ caring about yourself!"

Amber eyes widened in what appeared to be shock, but then Raphael's features hardened as he uttered a low curse. "I _don't_ need this! You can be 'god' all by yourself, Leo, 'cause I'm giving you the night off."

"Go then! Leaving's what you do best!" the oldest turtle retorted.

The red-masked turtle stumbled as he whipped around toward the door, and his hand shot out to steady himself on the wall. He recovered his dignity rapidly and resumed stomping out of the den.

Don cringed as he expected a crash, but his brother didn't exert enough force to even shut the door all the way. By the time Donatello looked back over his shoulder, the oldest turtle was already striding across the room.

Donny had no desire to pursue Leo, so he held his ground, slowly shutting the door with resignation. _Sometimes, I wish things weren't so predictable._


	11. Impossible

Raphael had only gone a few yards when he was forced to stop. The red-masked turtle braced a hand against the tunnel wall, leaving heavily for support from the dizziness invading his mind. Panting, he waited, hoping for the sensation to lift. Common sense told him to go back to the den, but he couldn't. Not yet.

In the end, it was anger that provided him with another small surge of energy and gave him the incentive to keep moving. His progress was painfully slow, but Raphael had all the time in the world to burn. If he went back home right away, his blue-masked brother would probably pick things up where they'd left off.

When a hot shower had only succeeded in temporarily warming Raphael up from the annoying chills wracking his body, the turtle had put on a couple layers of clothes to help. He _hadn't_ counted on Leonardo immediately jumping down his throat for the simple action.

Normally Raph didn't particularly _care_ if Leonardo was angry with him, but his older brother's last words stung him more than he'd ever admit. _I only think about myself? Leo couldn't be farther off. I'd do anything to protect my brothers, and _die_ before I'd let someone touch them. But I don't care about anyone else, _he thought mockingly.

The turtle's pace alternated between a slow walk and a shuffle, his hand constantly grazing the tunnel wall to help keep his balance. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he was sick now, and he needed to tell someone.

When Raphael had called Marc earlier, the phone switched straight to voicemail, but he didn't leave a message. He'd refused to call Luke at the time, because he knew the man would blow things out of proportion, just like his genius brother. _But I'll have to tell Donny tonight. It might even shut Leo up for a couple of days._

He continued to trudge down the tunnel, having decided to head for the van entrance. The sun was nearly finished setting when he made it to the opening, and he gratefully sank to the ground to watch the gathering darkness. Raphael crossed his arms over his plastron to help maintain a little more body heat, groaning as his head lolled forward. _I'm tired of being the bad guy. Whether I start it with Leo or not, he always thinks the worst of me._

Raphael sniffed, finding it difficult to breathe deeply. Congestion seemed to have taken control of his chest and nasal passages just over the span of the afternoon. _That's gonna be annoying. Wonder how long this crap will stick around. Donny didn't complain much about it, but he usually doesn't. He's got no problem fawning over someone else, but he sure doesn't want anyone nursing _him_._

The longer he sat there, he wished he'd brought a jacket with him too. _Even better, I_ _wish I was at home in bed, not sitting here. I could probably sleep for about a year at this point. _

His phone rang suddenly, startling him. Raphael drew the device from his belt, swallowing when he saw Marc's number on the screen. "Hello?"

"Hey, Raph," Marcus greeted him. "I accidentally let my phone die earlier, and I didn't notice you'd called until after I'd charged it. Did you need something?"

"Um…" Raphael hesitated. "Well…what are you up to?"

"Nothing right now, but I have to leave in about an hour. I'm picking April up from the airport tonight."

"Oh. Oh yeah, I forgot about that."

"Raph. Do you need something?" Marc asked once more.

"Don't worry about it, Marc. It's not important."

"Hold on a second. _What's_ not important? You don't typically call me just to chat."

"Listen, Man, it's no big deal. I'm gonna let you go."

"Don't hang up the phone," he ordered. "Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I'm here, Marc."

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

_Not really, no. _Raphael didn't know what to say to him. Apparently his silence struck a nerve with the man.

"Should I be concerned?"

"I don't know," he replied vaguely.

"Where are you?"

"Sitting out at the van entrance."

"I'll come meet you, okay?"

"No, Marc, don't do that. You're supposed to be heading for the airport."

"So I'll leave early and catch you on my way."

Raphael snorted. "I may not know the streets as well as you, but I know I'm not 'on your way' to the airport. I'm telling you, Marc, it's okay. I can talk to you later."

"Raph, I _have_ time, and you're acting weird. Should I call one of your brothers and have them check on you?"

"Shell, y' don't gotta do that, Marcus."

"Then tell me what's going on."

Raphael grumbled a curse. "I'll just meet _you_, okay? We're still waiting on a part for the van, but I can take my bike. Be there in about 20 maybe?"

"Sure. I'll be waiting downstairs."

"Okay, Marc; I'll see you in a bit."

The red-masked turtle got to his feet, relieved when his legs felt relatively stable. He fished around in a pouch on his belt for the keys to his bike, shaking his head at the thought of the van. In the old days Donatello would have scavenged the needed part from the dump. Now that the purple-masked turtle had regular income, however, he preferred to acquire higher quality parts, especially where the engine was concerned. _He wants to get a longer life out of the Battleshell…can't blame him for that._

Raphael picked up his helmet and climbed onto the back of his bike. _I didn't expect Marc to give me such a hard time. He must be developing Doc's overprotectiveness. That sucks too…if we don't have a pushover in this group, we'll never get away with anything._

He sat still in his seat for a few moments, resting his head in one hand while he determined if he had the energy to go anywhere. _I already told Marcus I'd meet him, and I feel better sitting than I did walking around. May as well get this over with._

* * *

Raphael caught himself driving slower than he usually would have. His body felt so heavy that even the addition of his helmet seemed to be weighing him down. He was glad there was no real wind that night, but the breeze created by merely driving was making him colder by the minute.

When he had to stop for a red light his eyes automatically closed. The blaring of a car horn was his first warning that the light had changed. Raphael jerked and accidentally let go of the clutch. The bike died with a lurch, and the turtle groaned as two cars quickly went around him.

_Shell. Now I look like some helpless newbie. This probably wasn't a good idea. _He restarted the bike as he waited through another light cycle, and double-checked the street sign. _I'm not far from Marc. I can do this, dagone it. It's not time for sleeping yet._

Three more blocks and he was within the familiar territory of St. Joseph's hospital, the facility where Luke worked in the ER and Marcus operated as an orthopedic surgeon. _I wonder if Doc's there tonight. He's been trying to burn the candle at both ends lately. Makes me glad Luke didn't drag himself underground today – he's gotta take a break at some point. He and Donny ought to start a support group or something._

Marcus only lived a couple of streets away from the hospital. The turtle had nearly reached his goal, even though he hadn't decided what to say to the man yet. _Gonna need to figure that out pretty quickly._

* * *

Marcus tapped the steering wheel of his Avalanche impatiently. He still had time before he needed to leave and pick up April, but he was concerned about what could be going on with the red-masked turtle. _It's taking him too long to get here. I don't understand why Raph couldn't tell me what was wrong over the phone. These guys can be _so_ stubborn._

He had been watching his rearview mirror, waiting for the single headlight that would signal his friend's arrival. Marcus glanced at the clock again, fingering his phone while he considered calling one of the other turtles. _Raph didn't want me to though. I'll give him a couple more minutes to get here before I call out the search party._

The moment he looked back at his mirror, the rescue squad was dismissed. A motorcycle had pulled up behind his Avalanche, and the turtle was slowly climbing down. _A little _too_ slowly. It looks like he could be in _pain_. Darn it, I should have called Leo._

Marcus hit the button to open his window as Raphael approached his side. "Hey. Get in the car."

"You don't gotta—"

"_Get_ in the car."

The turtle crossed in front of the Avalanche and came around to the passenger side. Marcus turned on his interior light as Raphael took off his helmet.

"Marc, I know I'm late. You need to get going."

"I have time," he insisted, studying Raphael. The way the red-masked turtle shivered under the low setting of his air conditioning made absolutely no sense. It was the middle of summer, and his friend was already wearing layers. Marcus reached to shut off the air and wheeled around in his seat. "You're here, so talk."

"I told you it coulda waited. I was just thinking about Donny being sick, and you guys didn't want him around Master Splinter."

"Okay…"

"Was that 'cause you thought he was contagious, or were you only trying to get his shell to rest properly?"

"Did you really come here to ask about Donny? Is something wrong with him?"

"No, it's not….this is more of a…what do you call it? Hypothetical question. If Don had more symptoms, would you still wanna keep him away from Sensei? Could he make anyone else sick?"

Marcus peered at Raphael silently, noticing the glassy quality of his amber eyes in addition to the pronounced rasp in his voice. "Are you _sure_ we're talking about Don?"

"No one needs to get sick if they don't have to," he answered evasively.

Marcus sighed loudly. "Do you have to be this difficult? You're not feeling well, are you?"

"It's not me I'm worried about."

The man shook his head. "I'm taking you home, Raph. You'll have to leave your bike here for the moment, because I don't think I can get it in the back of the Avalanche by myself."

Without warning, the turtle's door swung open. "You're not taking me anywhere. You're going to the airport to get Ape. I'll get home the same way I got here."

"Like heck you will! Get back in the car!"

"Go get your girlfriend and quit worrying about me," Raphael retorted.

"Does anyone else know you're sick?"

"I'm gonna talk to Don when I get home, all right? It didn't hit the Genius that hard, and it ain't gonna crush me either. I'll have him call you if it'll make you feel better."

"I'd feel better if you got back in the car!"

The red-masked turtle shook his head and disappeared around the side of the Avalanche.

_He's impossible. I'm going to have to do something about this._


	12. Unprepared

Raphael was highly annoyed as he climbed back onto his bike, and mostly with himself. _I never shoulda wasted Marc's time tonight. _Now_ I've got him up in arms for no good reason. Why didn't I just turn around and go home? _The turtle sighed softly and put his helmet back on.

The Avalanche was already moving away from him, and Raphael watched while Marcus turned into a small parking lot to make a U-turn. _I don't want him right behind me for a couple of miles. I think I'll get off this road entirely_ .

The red-masked turtle turned his bike around to go back the way he'd come, and made an immediate right at the first opportunity. _If he stares at the back of my head for too long, Marc won't quit worrying over me. Out of sight, out of mind seems like the best option._

He'd been driving for a couple of minutes when he had to tighten his grip on the handlebars as renewed heaviness weighed down his eyelids. _Been through this already, _he chided himself. _You can rest in a little while. Shell, after Donny's done with me I'll probably be quarantined to the lab for a month._

Raphael stopped for a red light and took the opportunity to lean farther against the handlebars, but willed himself _not _to close his eyes. He focused hard on the sparse cross-traffic to stay alert, picking out the muted color of each vehicle as it passed through the intersection.

He looked in his mirror and saw nothing behind him, with the exception of a lone pair of headlights a couple of blocks away. Raphael turned forward once more just as the traffic light changed. He pulled himself upright in his seat, compelling muscles to contract and support his frame so he could sit up straighter.

When he started driving again Raphael realized that he needed to keep an eye out for a specific cross-street that would lead him back the correct direction from his little detour. The turtle squinted on every approach of an intersection, but none of the signs were standing out to him. Over ten minutes had passed before it occurred to him that he'd probably missed the street he was looking for. _Great, idiot. What am I supposed to do now? Guess I should get turned around and search for something _else_ I recognize._

He struggled to make out the name of the street he was approaching, and felt relieved when it rang a bell in his mind. _Forrester._ _Okay, I can find get home from here for sure. It'll take me out of the way, but backtracking feels pointless._

Raphael made a quick left onto the side street, cursing his inability to go the correct direction home to begin with. _I wasted more time out here when I didn't need to. Sooner I get back, the better. Something tells me Marc might have already called one of the guys, and that means a welcoming party will be waiting for me._

A powerful chill overtook the turtle, and he had to downshift to drive a little slower. _It'll probably take me longer than ever at this point, but I'll get there. _Raphael fleetingly considered his cell phone and whether he should call Donatello. _But he'll rush after me like I need to be rescued and Leo will be all smug. No thanks. _He left the phone where it was clipped to his belt and concentrated on the road in front of him. _All I have to do is go in a straight line, and avoid any people or obstacles. Piece of cake._

The sudden stench of gasoline was overpowering, even with the congestion clouding his senses. _Where's that coming from? Shell, don't tell me I'm having an issue with the bike._

Raphael pulled over immediately to the side of the road, stopping six feet ahead of an alley. There was no one in sight, so he removed his helmet and began seeking out the source of the strong smell. He crouched down to examine his motorcycle, but quickly realized that the scent was coming from somewhere else. _That's weird. There are no gas stations around here. It smells like someone's car needs serviced in the worst way._

Now that he'd started looking, curiosity wasn't letting him give up easily. The red-masked turtle took a couple of halting steps, following the direction the scent seemed to be coming from. When he walked up on the edge of the alley, voices made him stop with a jerk.

"…you got enough there, kid, now make sure you spread it farther, like a trail. This place is old enough that it should go up like a giant fireball."

Raphael held his breath while he peered around the corner into a moderately sized alley that opened to another side street on the opposite end. He picked out two figures moving amid the shadows of the building adjacent to him, and it only took seconds to understand what they were doing. _Aw, Man. It's the wrong time for something like this… _He studied the storefront of what looked like a Pharmacy, and held his ground while the talking resumed.

"You brought more than enough chains, Lewis." The voice sounded younger.

"I wanted to make sure we had plenty to bar the exits." There was a sinister tone behind Lewis' laugh.

_Bar the exits from what? The place is closed. Who'd be trying to escape?_

"The guy's kids are probably up there, though. Don't you think that's sort of sad?"

Lewis snorted. "He knew what he was getting into when he testified, Nicholas. Way I see it, we're doing those kids a favor."

_What guy? What _kids_? This isn't happening._ Raphael looked up, scanning the higher floors of the building. As his eyes roved, he finally caught sight of colored curtains and an air conditioning unit that confirmed exactly what the two would-be criminals were discussing. There was a family living above the storefront, and they meant to kill them all.

"How do you figure?"

"The brats will get to die with their parents, and won't have to be shuffled between other relatives, or waste time missing anyone. If they're lucky, carbon monoxide might get them before the fire does, and they'll never wake up."

"I guess," Nicholas allowed.

"You can't be soft, kid. That's no way to go places in _this_ family, y'understand?"

Raphael clenched his jaw in frustration as he stayed hidden, out of reach of the bad guys. _There're only two of them, and it sounds like one's a new recruit. They might be armed, but if I surprise the older one fast enough, I could probably take anything the younger one dished out. _He took several small breaths, affording himself more time to think things through than normal. _I could call the cops, but that don't mean they'll be here in time to stop this. If those guys hear sirens, it might even spook them to set things off sooner and bolt. That won't help anyone either._

He looked around the corner again and a shudder coursed through his frame. _I ain't prepared for this, but I can't walk away. I can't. There're only two of them. I can do this. _The turtle pulled up his hood and silently entered the alley, dropping low by a row of trashcans for what cover they offered.

"You're getting a real education tonight, Nicholas. There's a certain feeling that comes from giving someone what they deserve…and nothing will satisfy you again once you've experienced it. You're lucky Morello sent you with me."

"Because no one messes with our family," Nicholas replied with more certainly.

"Now you've got it, kid. Loyalty…there's nothing more important to the crew than that. You prove yourself, and you'll go far with the boss. But if you cross Morello, you'll end up just like the sad-sack of a human being up in that apartment."

_Not on my watch, punk_. Raphael quietly flipped a lid off one of the trash cans and threw it with pinpoint accuracy, striking the larger of the two figures directly in the face. As the man stumbled backwards, the turtle lunged, accessing the reserve of adrenaline that he wasn't sure was available until that moment.

He snap-kicked the second young man into the building, mentally commanding strength to translate through his leg. The kid crumpled to the ground, but his quiet groan told Raphael that he probably wasn't completely finished yet. No matter – he still needed to deal with the larger of the pair.

The startled man who'd been struck by the lid recovered rapidly, struggling to his feet before Raphael could get to him. The turtle saw his hand snaking for what could only be a weapon, and forced his way forward faster. The stranger had his gun half-way raised by the time Raphael fist connected with his forearm, batting the firearm aside.

The man growled angrily, lowering his head like he intended to charge. Raphael couldn't help chuckling and remained still, _inviting_ the man to try running him down with upraised arms. His opponent dashed toward him. The moment his chin was exposed, the turtle's fist left a lasting impression and Lewis went down like a sack of rocks.

A smug grin was emerging when the sound of heavy footsteps assaulted Raphael, _much_ too heavy to belong to the smaller figure he'd taken down. The turtle whirled around and the world tilted dangerously under his compromised equilibrium. _Moron_, he berated himself inwardly. His breath caught in his throat as he strove to keep his balance _and_ avoid the blur charging at him.

Raphael managed to duck and keep his feet, narrowly escaping an object that whizzed through the air close to his head. He backed up against the building for support without thinking. He needed the stability of the structure against the dizziness crashing through his skull, but he was also providing his new (larger) attacker with an easier target.

A cylindrical object made a hollow sound as it collided with brick, striking at least four separate spots while Raphael evaded the stranger's blows. The next time the weapon bore down on him, the turtle stretched out a hand to catch the pipe in mid-air, battling to take it away from the man.

The turtle's hand slid across the smooth surface and his grasp failed under the power of the individual holding onto the other end. Raphael got a hand on it a second time, hanging on for dear life with all of the strength that sheer stubbornness could afford him.

A foot crashed into his thigh and the balance that he'd worked so hard to achieve gave out in less than a second. The pipe was torn from his hand as he pitched forward to his knees, and metal immediately arced to strike his shoulder.

The turtle managed to get his hands underneath him and was tenaciously trying to rise once more when the searing report of the pipe lay across his shell and then whipped around to catch the side of his head. This time, he wasn't even aware of his body giving out.


	13. Assumptions

Leonardo had lingered in the kitchen for nearly an hour over his tea. He didn't want to think, and he didn't _feel_ like venting, so he'd spent that time in silence. He was secretly grateful that his brother had left and he probably wouldn't have to deal with him again until morning.

The blue-masked turtle carried his cup to the sink, rinsing it out slowly with warm water. He washed it thoroughly instead of letting it sit, and put it aside on the drying rack.

When he exited the kitchen into the living area, he saw his two younger brothers relaxing in front of the TV. The way Michelangelo was surfing channels suggested that they hadn't settled on anything, but at least they appeared occupied. _It's a good thing too. I really don't want to talk about Raph anymore. _When his purple-masked brother gave him a small glare over his shoulder however, he couldn't ignore it.

Leonardo scowled in return. "Don't look at me like I just killed your best friend."

"Was that necessary, Leo?" his brother demanded. "You don't know _why_ Raph asked me to take Splinter for him tonight. You assumed without having a single fact."

"Sometimes you guys _force_ me to draw my own conclusions," Leo returned crossly.

"You could have asked me what was going on."

"And you wouldn't have covered for Raph? You're too nice, Don."

Donatello was quiet for a beat. "You don't know what's going on with him; I'm not even sure _I _do. All he told me was that he thought Sensei would be better off with me because of the issues with his breathing today."

"You don't think the fact that he couldn't wait to get out of the den had anything to do with it?"

"I don't know, Leo! But seeing Sensei like this is hard for _all _of us to take. Did you ever consider that he might be scared too, and _that's_ why he's acting out?"

Leo opened his mouth, but he didn't have an immediate comeback for his brother. "It doesn't help," he said finally. "Why can't Raph see that? Why can't he understand that running isn't the answer for everything?"

"I think he does get that, Leo, I do," Donny said more quietly. "But it doesn't make these emotions easier for him to process. I think you're too hard on Raph sometimes. You can't expect all of us to react to something the same way you do."

"_He's_ the one making this hard," the blue-masked turtle declared. "Do you think I enjoy fighting with him? If there was one thing I could do to fix it, I wouldn't hesitate…but my gut says that no matter what I do, he'll fight me on it. It's just the way he is. Raph is hardwired to disagree with anything I say, because I represent some kind of authority figure in his mind. He _has_ to respect Splinter, but he doesn't have to respect me – he's made it very clear."

"Do you ever try to see where _he's_ coming from, Bro?" Mike ventured. "He probably doesn't think you respect him either. Maybe if you came at him more like a brother and _less_ like an authority figure, he wouldn't get so defensive."

"Right, it's all my fault," Leo muttered, flopping down in a chair. "Of course it is. I should be used to it." He felt his phone shift uncomfortably on his belt, and set it down on the side table.

"Do you want to get along with him, or don't you?" Donny challenged. "You can be the bigger person. You could try something different, if it's worth it to you."

Leonardo sighed tiredly. "It wouldn't make me this crazy if he wasn't worth it to me. I only wish it didn't have to be this hard." His cell phone suddenly vibrated, traveling in a half circle on the table beside him before he grabbed it up. _Marcus?_

"Is it Raph?" Mike asked.

The blue-masked turtle shook his head. "No – it's Marc. Hang on a second." Leo sat up straighter in the chair and adjusted his phone to a better position. "Hey, Marcus. What's going on?"

"Um…that's a good question, Leo. I wish I had a real answer."

Leo's brow furrowed. "What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

"Something's wrong all right, but I'm not sure how serious it is. I saw Raph a few minutes ago."

"Wait. Raph went out to see _you_?"

"I don't know what his plans were originally. I missed a call from him earlier today, and when I reconnected with Raph tonight, he sounded weird. He wouldn't tell me what was going on over the phone, so I convinced him to meet me. He's sick, Leo. I wanted to bring him back myself, but he wouldn't let me drive him."

Leonardo's breath seized in his chest. "He's sick? Are you _sure_?"

"Positive. I could have seen it from a mile away."

Leo covered the phone with one hand while he cursed under his breath. _I'm blind. I'm an idiot. I can't believe I didn't see this!_

"Where did he go after that, Marc? Was he heading home?"

"That was probably his intention, but we're way off course at the moment."

"_We_? I thought he wouldn't let you bring him!"

"He didn't. I've been following him on his bike from a couple of blocks away. I wanted to make sure that he got home safe, but now I don't know _what's_ happening. Raph pulled over to the side of the road for some reason, left his bike, and eventually disappeared into an alley. I'm not sure why he'd do that unless he decided to head straight underground. I thought I would get a bit closer and have a look around myself."

Leo's mind raced with possible scenarios. It wasn't likely that Raphael would leave a prized possession such as his bike unprotected without a good reason. _But he wouldn't try to get into with anyone either, not when he was sick. Right? _

"What are you doing right this second?" he asked Marc, suddenly aware that his younger brothers had crowded in closer and were hanging on his every word.

"I'm driving up behind his bike…and I smell a _strong_ odor. I think it's gasoline. Is it possible he was having trouble with the motorcycle?"

"Your guess is better than mine at this point."

"Well, I'm going to get out and see if he's still around here."

Leonardo bristled at the idea, though he wasn't sure why. "Marc, stay in your car for a minute, okay?" He looked at Donatello. "Try calling Raph, will you?"

"Leo, what's going on? Did Marcus tell you that he's sick?"

The blue-masked turtle nodded grimly. "And I drove him right out the door, when he probably wasn't heading that direction to start with."

Donny's brown eyes were downcast. "Don't feel bad, Leo. I didn't see it either, and I _should _have."

"We can worry about what we did or didn't see later. We need to figure out what's going on with him, so would you call his phone please?"

The purple-masked turtle nodded, drawing out his cell.

Leonardo returned to Marcus. "Don's calling him."

A few seconds of silence followed, as everyone waited for the red-masked turtle to answer. Donny shook his head at Leonardo finally.

"It rang a couple of times, and then it cut out. Does Marc think something's happened to him?"

"Don, I—"

"I heard it, Leo!" Marcus exclaiming, gaining his attention. "When I opened my window, I heard Raph's phone, faintly. There are voices too. Someone else is in that alley."

Leonardo cursed inwardly. "Marcus, do _not_ get out of the car. Don't expose yourself in any way. Hold on." He turned back to Donatello. "Get the location software up. We're going after Raph."

Donny was already on his feet and running to the lab when Michelangelo grabbed Leo's arm.

"Does Marcus know something?" His youngest brother looked like a bundle of nerves.

"He heard Raph's phone ringing from an alley, and there are other voices down there too," Leo explained.

"Leo, listen!" Marcus spoke up. "If Raph was attacked, if he's been seen by someone, we might not have much time!"

"If he _was_ attacked, you'd be in danger too, Marcus!"

"Am I supposed to drive off when he could be in trouble?"

"Marc, Don is tracking your coordinates as I speak. We'll be out the door in three minutes. We're coming – don't make any potential problems worse!"

"Leo, I told you we're way off track! It'll be at least half an hour before you reach us."

The blue-masked turtle shook his head like Marcus could see him. "It won't take that long, not if we stick to the Slider underground."

"Leo—"

"Do what I said, Marcus! Don't expose yourself."

Donatello dashed back into the living area. "Raph is several miles away, and the vital readings coming from his implant are all over the place! Something _definitely_ happened. We've got to get out of here."

"You took the words out of my mouth," Leo said smoothly. "Don't even mess with clothes, guys. We're leaving _now_."

"I'll try to stay put, Leo!" Marcus told him.

"Trying isn't optional - just _stay!_ I'm hanging up, and I expect you not to move. Call me back if you see Raph."

The man hung up without answering him, and Leonardo leaped to his feet.

"Get the Slider ready, Don. I'm going to tell Splinter we're leaving."

His brother nodded. "We'll be ready to go."

Leo hurried down the hall, busting in the door to his Master's quarters louder than he'd intended. Splinter's head rose at once, and onyx eyes flew open to stare at him.

"What is going on?" the rat murmured.

"I apologize, Sensei. I wanted to tell you that we're leaving. Something's up with Raph, so we're going to track him down."

Splinter's ears flattened. "Something is wrong?"

"We think he could be in danger," Leo returned. "We'll bring him back – I promise."

His Sensei nodded. "I know you will – now _go_!"

Leonardo's heart raced as he ran out the door, and quickly exited the den. He jumped onto the back of the waiting Slider, content to keep some space with his brothers for the time being. His cheeks were burning with the shame of his earlier mistake, and he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

The blue-masked turtle took two deep breaths, trying to steady the nerves rocketing through his body. _He'll be okay. Raph will be all right. We're going to get there._


	14. Caught

Raphael felt like he was frozen solid. A picture of a vast snowy tundra flickered before unseeing eyes, leaving rallying thoughts to wonder how he'd ended up in the wilderness. The hard ground combined with the painful angle he was sprawled in made the turtle want to rise, though he couldn't muster the willpower to try yet.

The sensation of moisture sliding down his face gave him something else to focus on besides frozen limbs. The sticky residue it left behind was familiar. _Blood? I'm hurt. I should get up, find my phone…_

He groaned with exertion while he attempted to coordinate his arms to assist him in sitting up. Yet before he could make any ground Raphael felt something close around his ankles. He wasn't prepared for the jerk of being yanked suddenly by his legs. He was moving, or being dragged rather. _What's got me?_

Raphael found that he could rotate his neck slightly, which was an improvement from not being able to move at all. The surface underneath his shell no longer reminded him of ice, not with the small pebbles being kicked up while someone pulled him along. It occurred to him that he _should_ struggle, but the idea remained a thought, because he didn't have the power to translate it into action.

The turtle was being maneuvered through a puddle of standing water when a scent overwhelmed him, bringing a memory with it. _Not water. Gasoline! Those guys were gonna torch that place! _Raphael fought to open his eyes, but his blurry surroundings were dark and indistinct. There seemed little point in trying to _keep_ them open.

A new object draped over his feet, the curious texture and weight grounding him in what small sense of reality he could grasp. Raphael hissed softly when the material tightened, constricting, cutting off the circulation of his ankles. His breath came a little faster when his eyes finally connected with a shadow of movement, and the figure of a human took shape.

"Get that thing up for a minute."

Raphael had no idea what the man was talking about, but a growl formed in his throat when his shoulders were jerked from behind, lifting him none-too-gently. He heard a soft gasp from someone on his right, while the individual on the left took a more direct approach. The metal surface of a pipe tapped under his chin threateningly.

"You want another taste, critter?"

"You _had_ your turn, Dalfour."

The hot breath of another man drew Raphael's gaze to shift right as a fist flashed toward him. His head snapped back from the force of the blow, and he automatically clenched his eyes shut while pain reported back to him.

The red-masked turtle was completely caught off guard when the other men pushed him forward so that he tumbled onto his knees. Gravity pulled his upper-body back to earth and he almost struck his head on the odd surface he'd been forced to kneel on. He stared at the rungs for several seconds before making sense of them. _It's a sewer grate. What are these guys _doing_?_

The way his feet were already bound meant that they were now trapped underneath him in an extremely uncomfortable fashion. Raphael stiffened while the men grasped his arms, pulling his wrists on top of the bars. Horror seized him as one of them fed a length of chain through the bars and proceeded to wrap his hands together. The chain was fed through the bars a second time, and the click of a padlock sealed his fate. _Oh, shell. Shell, shell…_

Raphael squirmed, only gaining a couple of inches within the position they'd trapped him. Forced to bend over the sewer grate with his own weight cementing the bars in place, there seemed little hope of escaping.

"You sure about this?" The voice was young and probably belonged to the kid. "He's kind of cool-looking. I bet he'd go for a high price on the black market."

The other men laughed derisively.

"You mean with your many underground contacts?" Lewis asked mockingly. "Nicholas, we don't know anyone who'd be interested in something like _that_. It'd be a waste of effort, not to mention, it isn't why we're here."

"Are you afraid I'm gonna tell the big man that this critter put both of you on your backsides?" The deeper tone of voice indicated the hulking man who'd brought the turtle down.

"You won't tell anyone about this thing, Dalfour, not _ever_."

"Oh? Why won't I?"

"Because if you breathe one word about what happened, Morello is going to hear about _all _the gambling debts you still owe to Terelli's people. Nobody likes a scene between two families."

Dalfour grunted his disapproval. "_Fine_, but we need to get rid of it."

"We _are_," Lewis retorted coldly. "It interrupted the festivities, so it's only fair that it gets to take part in them. Nicholas, there's another can in the truck. Go get it."

Raphael swallowed and his heart thudded wildly while he imagined exactly what Lewis meant to do with him. He rested his aching head against the bars, cursing his decision to leave the den that night, and the urge that had pressed him into combat he wasn't ready for. His watch was buried somewhere underneath the chains lashing his wrists together. He'd had no chance to set off his beacon to even _ask_ for help.

_I didn't _take_ my chance, _he corrected bitterly. _Hopefully these goons won't leave any evidence, and the guys won't ever have to know what happened to me. I wish I could tell 'em I was sorry. I wish a lot of things, but it's too late for any of it now._

"This thing is more than an animal y'know." Dalfour hefted a foot against his shell, crushing the turtle lower against the grating.

"What are you talking about?" Lewis sounded bored.

"I'm telling you, he understands. When I talked to him, it was like he knew what I was saying. He moves, dresses, and fights like a human being. He had a _phone_. This is the sort of thing Vale would be interested in."

"_Vale_," Lewis scoffed. "Vale's not in charge of us, Dalfour."

"He got _Williams_ kicked off this errand, and left you with the runt instead."

"Williams screwed up, and Morello had the final say. That's how it's going to stay. Vale doesn't fool everybody. Fast as he's climbed in the family, I know _exactly_ what he's gunning for."

"When we get back, you ought to try saying that to his face."

"Maybe I will."

_Yeah right, y'big coward, _Raphael thought angrily. _If I could stand on my own two feet, _you _wouldn't be standing. _The red-masked turtle heard the footsteps he'd been dreading, signaling the return of the kid.

"What do you want me to do?" Nicholas asked.

"Douse him," Lewis ordered. "I'll grab another wick, and then we need to finish this. We've hung out here long enough."

The man's words left Raphael feeling colder than he knew was possible. He hung his head close to his plastron, holding his breath as a deluge of gasoline washing over his shell, saturating his clothes in seconds. Raphael cursed when he felt the fuel penetrate his skin, and the urge to shudder was uncontrollable. _This is it, huh? Way to go, Raph._

"You got good coverage, kid. Did you empty it?"

The nearness of Lewis' voice suggested the man was standing right over him, and Raphael craned his neck to catch a glimpse of him. He wished he could think of something clever or threatening to say that would leave an impact on the ruthless stranger intent on burning him alive. No words came to mind though – only the faces of his father and brothers.

"Yeah, it's gone, Lewis. Are you going to do this?"

There was an awkward pause.

"Why are you both looking at me?" Dalfour demanded.

"Where's your lighter?" Lewis was exasperated.

"You didn't ask me to bring one! Are you telling me you're not ready to light the wick?"

"How can you not have a lighter on you?"

"Oh, because I smoke you naturally assume I've always got one?"

"Do you or _don't_ you?"

"I think I left one in the car, maybe up front? Go get it, kid," Dalfour commanded.

The fear that consumed Raphael for himself was immediately overshadowed by concern for the family up in the apartment. _They'll be goners for sure. I can't stop these guys myself. But if all else is failing there's still one thing I can try. _The turtle breathed in as deeply as he could, raising his voice as a last resort.

"FIRE! HELP-FIR—"

Dalfour reacted instantly, wrapping a hand around his throat and cutting off the air to his windpipe. "_Told_ ya, Lewis. The thing understands."

"I bet it'll scream like a banshee when we light it up." Lewis seemed unimpressed. "I've got tape in my bag, Dalfour. Can you keep a hold of it for a minute?"

"I think I can handle it."

There was a grin in Dalfour's voice that the turtle couldn't stand. The man's grip was tight, so tight around his throat that he still couldn't breathe. He tried to struggle, but the man leaned against him harder.

"I don't know what you are, critter, or where you came from, but you'll sooner move a mountain than move _me_."

The burning sensation in Raphael's chest came on sooner than he expected. _I can hold my breath dagone it! _Dalfour's vise grip felt like it was in danger of cracking his neck. His muscles were spasming under the brute's hand, and the drumbeat that had been running through his mind all day suddenly sounded a lot louder.

Darkness was tugging at the fringe of his vision by the time Dalfour let go, allowing the turtle to breathe for a couple of seconds before duct tape wound around his mouth. He wasn't sure he would have had the strength to yell again. Raphael was tired; too tired to continue holding up his head.

The turtle sagged against the metal grate and felt one tear form before everything went dark and even the chill in his bones faded to nothing.


	15. Decision

Marcus was bowed over the steering wheel of the Avalanche, grasping his inhaler tightly in one fist and his cell phone in the other. Every ounce of common sense and self preservation was dictating that he follow Leonardo's instructions to stay put, but the memory of Raphael's yell ringing in his ears was forcing him to falter. _Raph sounded desperate, and he'd _have_ to be! There's no way he'd try to attract attention to himself unless he had no other choice. If I risk waiting for the guys, if I do nothing in the meantime… it could be too little, too late._

He dropped his phone and inhaler on the passenger seat. There was no point in calling anyone to ask for permission that wouldn't be granted. The man had no idea what he was going to do, but continuing to sit there wasn't an option. _As for a weapon, the car is the only thing I've got. It has to be safer than going on foot, in any case._

The decision suddenly cast, Marc shifted the Avalanche into drive. For the first few feet, he concentrated on merely controlling his breathing. It was important to prevent another asthma attack from almost overtaking him like the one that had threatened while he was doing nothing but _waiting_ for the turtles to arrive.

When he turned his vehicle into the alley however, a completely different feeling came over him. His fear was evidenced by his death-grip on the steering wheel to stop his hands from shaking, but now there was determination too. Marcus flashed his high-beams, revving the engine while he slipped through the entrance.

He knew it was going to be a tight fit for the Avalanche. Marc bit his lip as he squeezed past the dumpster, fully aware of the metal scraping down the side of the car, but dead-set on getting through. He revved the engine once more as he caught sight of figures frozen in the bright beams of his head lights.

Marcus was glancing left and right for a sign of Raphael when one of the men broke out of the trance, snatching for something from his belt. He had just enough time to discern that the figure was drawing a gun, when a larger man practically dove on top of his cohort, and then shoved him several feet in the opposite direction.

"Go, go!" one of the strangers exclaimed. "_Move_!"

Marc continued driving forward, hoping, praying that it could be that simple to get rid of the men. The third shadow was riveted to his spot, until the other two had fled down the opposite end of the alley. Only then did he turn tail to run after them. Marcus couldn't wait for him to disappear before continuing his quest for Raphael, and returned to rapidly scannning the ground.

The man exhaled went he saw a flash of brown; the same color as the sweatshirt Raphael had been wearing earlier. The turtle was crouched on the pavement only a couple of feet away. Without a second thought Marcus jumped out of the relative safety of the Avalanche, leaving his high beams on to provide him with light. A shiver ran down his spine as he bent over the turtle, mystified by his odd position.

The squealing of tires from several yards away made Marc feel a bit better, but only just. _Please don't let them grow a backbone and return._

"Raph?" Marcus lifted his friend's chin, but he didn't respond. He grasped at the tape covering the turtle's mouth, and pried it loose with his fingernails as carefully as he could. Marc could hear Raphael breathing, but felt for his pulse to check his heart rate anyway. It throbbed too quickly under his fingers, unsurprisingly.

He fingered the turtle's layers to find them saturated, and grimaced at the accompanying odor. _They soaked him in gasoline! What kind of animal does something like that? _Marc's head shot up with paranoia, watching the other entrance to the alley. _Hopefully one that will keep running._

Marcus returned his attention to his injured friend, probing for the source of fresh blood trailing down his face. He located a laceration that was still seeping on the right side of skull, and his concern increased by a couple more degrees. He huffed in frustration as he was unable to shift the turtle, and bent lower to the ground to find out why.

His eyebrows rose at the sight of chains looping the turtle's hands and feet to the metal grate, and groaned when he discovered the padlocks. "_Really_?" Helplessness only lasted for a second before he recalled that he already had what he needed to help Raphael in the back of the Avalanche. Among other things that Luke encouraged him to carry were a couple of tools, including bolt cutters. _Luke's instructions make more sense now, that and the fact that he used to pack heat. I would have felt better if _I'd_ had a gun tonight._

Marcus was drawn out of thought by the softest of whimpers from the turtle. "Raph? Hold on, buddy. I'll be right back!" He had no idea if his friend could hear him, but it didn't stop him from trying.

The man raced around the side of his vehicle, climbing over the seats to find the tool. He brought along a blanket and a small medical kit that had been located under the seat, but stopped short from getting out of the car. _My phone. I should take that with me too and call the turtles, even if they're going to kill me. Whether or not the bad guys come back, there's still a chance someone else could along and find us._

Marc's first move upon returning to Raphael was to attack the restraints. His dark eyes narrowed when he realized how tightly the turtle's limbs had been bound. _Man, I wish the guys could have gotten here in time, but those men weren't going to wait. Who knows what would have happened if I'd tried to hold off for a few more minutes? I didn't want to find out._

Once Marcus had cut through the chains, Raphael instantly slumped toward the ground. The man caught him, drawing him backwards on top of the blanket. He sighed as he knelt on the edge of the material, knowing that it was time to call Leonardo. Marc's gaze fixed on the other end of the alley while he waited for the blue-masked turtle to pick up the phone.

"What is it, Marcus?" Leo answered without pleasantries.

"How far away are you?"

"Maybe ten minutes, and we're trying to close that gap."

"I have Raph. He's hurt, and I can't load him into the Avalanche by myself. Hurry."

"How did—"

"Don't ask me right now. Just get here."

"We're coming," the turtle said firmly.

The man hung up the phone and shifted to a new position behind Raphael's head. _Whatever struck him, it looks like a glancing blow. Something absorbed part of the impact, or it could have been a lot worse. _He reached for his open kit, tearing off a piece of gauze to help staunch the bleeding.

Marcus held the strip in place with one hand, and began feeling along the turtle's forehead with the other, checking for more injuries. Unexpected heat met his fingertips, and he immediately turned his hand over to check the temperature more accurately. He winced at how hot Raphael's skin felt. _Darn it, _why_ didn't you let me drive you? April is a big girl. She knows how to use a taxi. This was way more important._

The red-masked turtle twitched, almost like he was waking up.

"Raph? Can you hear me?"

His eyes flickered, but the sign of life was gone as quickly as it had appeared.

"Aw, Raph. What are we going to _do_ with you?"

The sound of a car made Marc's neck whip around, but the vehicle kept going past the alley. The man gulped for air, forcing himself to breathe in a normal rhythm. _It's okay. The guys are going to get here. _The man supported Raphael's head in his lap, heedless of the moisture soaking through his _own_ clothes. _Those men got gasoline everywhere. It's like they weren't even trying to keep…_

The thought trailed off as Marcus glanced at the building to his right, and back down at the pools of gasoline. _This had nothing to do with Raph, not at first. It was arson…and they were planning on torching him too. _Marc shuddered at the idea, fury causing him to hold onto his friend tighter. _Animals, _he repeated_. How on earth could human beings sink so low? I'll never understand._

The minutes passed slowly; much too slowly for Marc's liking. He was on high alert over every single sound, and jumped a few inches when he heard a soft _clank _from around the corner. The hissed _"Marc_!" that followed flooded his senses with relief.

"Down here," he called in return, though it was unnecessary. The stealthy figures of the turtles were already slipping around the corner. The brothers caught up with him in the blink of an eye.

Donatello was the first one on the ground. "What the…why is he soaked, Marc? And smell like _gasoline_?"

Marcus shook his head. "I didn't see any of it. I think he got caught in the middle of an attempted arson. When he went down, it looks like they decided to torch him."

The enraged look in the purple-masked turtle's eyes made Marc glad that he wasn't _his_ enemy. Donny's face softened the moment he turned back to his brother, and he probed him gently with his own experienced hands.

"Shell, he's _hot_. I should have seen it…"

"Don." Leonardo's voice startled Marcus with its closeness. "We need to get out of here. Is it safe to move him?"

"Yes," he agreed.

"Let me take him," the blue-masked turtle requested.

Donny backed closer to the Avalanche while his brother gathered up Raphael, and his eyes flickered over obvious damage down the right side of the vehicle. "You'd better bring your car down to the van entrance and leave it with me, Marc. You don't want to get implicated in whatever this scheme was. I can fix it up for you."

"No rush," Marcus returned. "Will you take Raph back with the Slider?"

Don nodded. "It's the fastest way home."

"Then I'll drive my car around and head there too."

"Donny, I think we're going," Mike announced, motioning to Leonardo exiting the alley.

"Everything will be okay," Marcus said with more certainty than he'd felt before. "We'll get Raph fixed up."

Donatello sighed anxiously. "Yeah. Do you know if Doc was working tonight?"

"Not that I know of, not unless he got called in. Listen, go catch up with your brothers, and I'll meet you in a few minutes."


	16. Unfortunate Luck

Donatello's mind was racing with the number of things that needed to happen when they made it back to the den. He didn't give his younger brother a chance to step off the Slider. "Mike, go meet Marcus, would you? He'll be at the van entrance soon if he isn't already."

The orange-masked turtle saluted. "On it, Bro."

Don got the main door open so that his oldest brother could carry Raphael inside.

"Am I heading for the lab?" Leo asked.

Donny shook his head. "Bathroom. We need to get the gasoline washed off first. Turn the water on, and make sure it's lukewarm, okay? I'll be up in a minute. I'm going to touch base with Sensei and sort of bring him up to speed."

"_Sort_ of?"

The purple-masked turtle shrugged. "You can't blame me for being a little vague. The circumstances we found him in weren't exactly ideal."

"Whatever you think." Leo's dismissive tone indicated that he didn't want to waste time debating the issue.

Donatello headed down the hall to Splinter's quarters while Leo carried the red-masked turtle up the steps. His Sensei was already sitting up partially when Don entered the room, though his eyes were closed. The moment he opened his mouth, the rat turned his head toward him.

"Is Raphael home? Is he safe?"

"Yes, Master. He's a little rough right now, and he needs my full attention. I just wanted to let you know that we're back, and Raph is okay."

"Was he injured?"

Don nodded. "It's nothing we can't handle; Marc is on his way. Raph feels warm to me, so he might be coming down with something too."

Onyx eyes studied him sharply, as if Splinter was well aware that he was withholding details. "Keep me informed," he said flatly.

"Yes, Sensei. I will, Sensei."

Donatello gratefully backed out of the room, and took the stairs two at a time to get to the second floor. The bathroom door was ajar, and he found Leonardo wrestling to get their brother out of his layers. He strode to the cabinet over the sink and retrieved a pair of scissors for the blue-masked turtle.

"Don't fight with it, Leo. We're going to have to pitch those clothes anyway."

His brother accepted the scissors and immediately began cutting through material. "Are you going to call, Doc?" he asked without looking up.

Don squirmed uncomfortably. "I know that I probably _should_, and I'll definitely hear it from him if I don't call Doc right away."

"But?"

"But someone needs to be well rested in order to take shifts with Raph. I was considering letting him sleep for as long as I can."

"Mike and I could help some too, couldn't we?"

"Absolutely not. If Raph has what I did, it's contagious. Even if it's something different, that possibility still exists."

"Don, I've been around Raph. We share a room…for the most part."

"The germs aren't necessarily airborne, but it's not worth the risk. With as much as you've handled him, I want you to take a shower of your own."

"You're serious?"

"Does it sound like I'm kidding? I get to pull rank in this matter."

Leo glanced up uncertainly. "So you're _not _going to call Doc."

"Not right away."

The older turtle shrugged. "I guess you know what you're doing."

Donatello tested the temperature of the running water, and adjusted the faucet a little colder. "Would you like to help me with him again?"

Leonardo wordlessly drew Raphael off the bathroom floor and brought him over to the tub. Don reached down to slip off his red mask.

"Probably need to toss this too," he said softly.

The blue-masked turtle heaved a giant sigh. "How in the world did this happen, Don? How many times has he disappeared, and I worried over nothing? Then I let him go without even caring, and he almost doesn't come back at all."

Don shook his head. "You can't predict these things, Leo. I'm sure Raph didn't plan for it to happen."

"I don't understand why he didn't call for help. _Shell_, Don, if Marc hadn't followed him…"

"Leo, do yourself a favor and don't focus on what _could_ have happened. Raph's alive, so we can be grateful for that."

His brother looked away. "It's hard not to think about." Leonardo knelt down on the rug behind him, lingering while Don scrubbed his brother's skin as hard as he dared. "I can't do this, Don."

The purple-masked turtle glanced over his shoulder. "You can't do _what_?"

"Raph doesn't like listening to me. He never has. There's probably a good reason for that."

"Leo, don't do this right now."

"Sorry. I'm honestly not trying to make this about me, it's just…when I screw up this way, it makes me question things. Like whether I'm cut out to handle this team on my own."

Donny exhaled. "_I_ have to wonder why every time something goes wrong, it somehow ends up being your fault. Do you really want to know what your issue with Raph is? I can sum it up in one word."

"If you can actually do that, I'll hug you."

"It's called 'misunderstanding'. _Both_ of you assume too much and don't communicate enough. You put words into each other's mouths, and believe you know exactly what the other is thinking. Nothing will improve between the two of you until you learn to listen."

Leonardo was silent for a long moment. "I thought you said you could sum it up in one word."

Don rolled his eyes. "I did my best." He glanced down at the inadequate lather he'd built. "I don't think this soap will be strong enough to do the trick. Do me a favor and grab the new bottle of Dawn from the kitchen."

"For real?"

"There's a reason experts use it to clean up after oil spills. It works."

His brother nodded and got swiftly to his feet. Donatello shot him a parting glance as he left the bathroom. _He and Raph have got to learn how to talk to each other, and Leo needs to stop blaming himself for every disaster. _He carefully brushed his fingers over Raphael's head injury. _It's going to be a long night._

* * *

Leonardo had just finished bringing Don the new soap when he heard the door close downstairs.

"Do you care if I go touch base with Marcus real fast? I'll come back to help you," Leo assured him.

"Leo, there's only room for one us to do this. Having you watch is a bit awkward," his brother admitted.

"Okay, then call me when you're ready to bring him back downstairs."

"Will do."

The blue-masked turtle hurried down the steps and met his youngest brother and Marcus in the living area.

"What's going on?" The man sounded as breathless as if he'd been running. "Has Raph come around at all?"

Leo shook his head. "No, and he'd be embarrassed if he did. Don's getting him washed up, but he still smells like gasoline."

"He will for a _while_," Marc told him. "It'll fade eventually. Maybe I'll head up there too."

"It didn't sound like Don wants an audience. I need to talk to you for a minute, in any case."

Marcus swallowed like he knew what the turtle was going to ask.

"I need to know exactly what happened out there."

"You _do_ realize I didn't see most of it," the man countered. "I was in my car, where I was supposed to be."

"That part I understand. But what made the bad guys run away and leave Raph?"

Marcus folded his arms across his chest. "They ran away from my Avalanche. Apparently it's a lot scarier looking than I realized."

"I told you _not _to expose yourself, Marc! We were coming—"

"Not fast enough!" he interrupted, an unusual defiant light shining in his eyes. "You weren't there! You don't know what was going on."

"I know that those men could have killed you. I'm surprised that they didn't try!"

"What was I supposed to DO?" The mild-mannered doctor's voice rose higher than Leo had ever heard. "Your brother _screamed_ for help! Should I have asked him to wait a few more minutes until you could get there to save him? You didn't hear the desperation in his voice, but I'm sure you can imagine what it would take to force yourself to risk exposure.

"It didn't matter what the situation in the alley was, I knew right then that I had to do something! Yes, those men could have killed me, and I don't know why they didn't. One of them started to pull a gun, and another literally _stopped_ him from shooting me…then they fled. But so help me, even if he'd pulled the trigger, I would do it again. I will _never_ sit idly by when one of you could be dying, so don't you dare tell me to!"

Rebuffed, the blue-masked turtle rubbed his eyes. "Marc, I…I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be ungrateful, but we would never want something to happen to you or Doc because of us. It's not worth it."

"It's worth it to _me_," the man emphasized. "I may not be as able-bodied as one of you, but you can't blame me for stepping in during an emergency."

Mike cleared his throat. "No, we can't, dude. That doesn't mean we have to _like_ it. We pretty much want to make sure you guys get to stick around."

The orange-masked turtle threw an arm around Marc's back, and the man gave him a _look_.

"I have to be given some allowances from time-to-time."

Leonardo snorted. "Not happening. We're not giving you a death clause in your contract, Marc."

"Who said anything about a contract? I never signed anything."

"That's about to change," Mike muttered.

"I don't need a contract. The way those men ran tonight, it feels like some of your 'turtle luck' is wearing off on me."

"There are a lot of people who think that a bullet combined with gasoline vapors can start a fire," Mike said importantly. "That's just Hollywood for ya."

Leo's eye ridges rose questioningly. "Who are all of these people, and how you know them?"

"C'mon, bro, that episode of Mythbusters was classic. They couldn't get those gasoline vapors to ignite for _nothing_!"

The blue-masked turtle smiled in spite of himself. "That, or the men could have been concerned about the noise factor. I doubt they wanted to attract attention. I'm very happy they didn't kill you, Marc."

"Me too," he replied, looking down when his phone vibrated. "It's April. She'll probably be headed here next."

"I'll get the pull-out set up for you guys in the lounge," Mike volunteered.

"Thanks, Mike. Excuse me."

Leonardo couldn't help watching the man while he answered the phone and had a quiet conversation with their red-haired friend. _We're lucky _and_ unfortunate in a way. We have great friends who'd do anything for us…and sometimes _that's_ the problem._

He looked down at his watch, and noticed it was closing in on midnight. _I wonder how much sleep anyone will be getting tonight. Aside from Doc that is. It's in Don's hands, but I hope he doesn't wait _too_ long to call him._


	17. Home

In spite of years of experience with the turtle's emergencies, April's heart felt like it was thudding a hundred miles and hour when she finally arrived at the den. The red-haired woman let herself in the front door without knocking, and was instantly met by a surprised Leonardo.

"What happened, April? I thought Mike was going to meet you!" The blue-masked turtle stepped aside to allow her access into the hallway.

"So did _I,_" Michelangelo declared from the living area. "Why didn't you call me like you were s'pose to, Ape?"

"I didn't need a ride," she answered, dropping her small rolling suitcase by the door. "It isn't that far of a walk from the van entrance. You two act like I haven't done this 2000 times!"

April gazed between the two turtles, focusing on each of them in turn. Leonardo only held her eyes for a couple of seconds. The tension in his frame never seemed more obvious than when one of his brothers were suffering.

Mike looked genuinely happy to see her and stepped forward to give the woman a hug. "I'm glad you're here, April, but we shoulda done breakfast or something."

"Sorry you had to come home to _this_," Leo mumbled.

April squeezed the blue-masked turtle's shoulder. "I only wish I could have been here sooner. Where is Marcus? Is he with Donny?"

Mike shook his head. "Not yet. He's showering and changing first. Marcus ended up with gasoline on his clothes too."

April stiffened at the orange-masked turtle's words. "Those guys were going to kill Raph, huh?"

Leo nodded unhappily. "And we wouldn't have been any the wiser."

"That doesn't make it your fault," she told him pointedly.

The turtle brushed off her words with a shrug. "Can we get you something, or would you like to lie down?"

She shook her head and glanced toward the lab. "I wouldn't mind dropping in on Donny for a minute, if you think that'd be okay."

"Sure, I guess," Leo said. "Don doesn't want _us_ in there, but it'd probably be safe for you."

April smiled with all the reassurance she could muster. "I'll see both of you in a little while."

"I'll put your stuff in the lounge. We figured you and Marc would be staying over." Mike reached for the bag the woman still had slung over her shoulder. "I really could have come and gotten you."

April waved Mike off as he grabbed her suitcase from beside the door. "I try not to fly too heavy."

"Be sure and tell me if you need something," Leo reminded her.

The woman exhaled tiredly. "I know my way around here pretty well, Leo, but thanks."

April tousled her fingers through her hair as she opened the door to the lab. Her forehead creased at the sight of the purple-masked turtle bending over his prone brother, but Don looked over his shoulder before she had a chance to speak.

"Hey," he greeted quietly. "You're back."

She gave him a wry smile. "Just in time for a disaster."

"I'm blaming Doc. _He's _the one who said we were overdue."

Donatello started to rise, but April held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't get up, Donny. I know you're busy here…but I needed to see Raph for my own peace of mind."

He nodded with understanding. "It could have been worse. He's got some nasty bruising around his throat, but the only other wound I've found is the head injury. The laceration isn't extremely deep, but I still have to irrigate it because of the dirt and grime he came in contact with."

"That's the glamorous life of a vigilante medic."

"Oh yeah, you know it, April." Donatello's gaze drifted back to his brother, and she noticed Raphael's arm twitch.

"Stay still," Donny commanded with gentle force, pressing Raphael's bicep down when it started to rise. The purple-masked turtle glanced at April apologetically. "He doesn't like it when I mess with his head. Raph tried to stop me right before you came in."

"He's awake?"

"Uh…sort of. I'm not sure how much is getting through. I don't know whether his condition is related to a concussion or his fever." He laughed humorlessly. "Maybe it's both."

"Is his temperature very high?"

"A little over 102 degrees, and that's _after_ being in lukewarm water. I'm going to keep an eye on it for the next hour before I go ahead with hydralin. Fevers can be a great tool for the body to use to kill bacteria."

Raphael's arm pulled against Don's grasp, his hand flailing out of control. The older turtle slurred through several unintelligible words before April understood two.

"…_leave_ it…"

"I know it hurts, Raph, but I need to do this," Donny explained patiently. "I'm almost finished cleaning, but you shouldn't be touching it."

April silently grabbed the other turtle's wrist, dragging his arm down carefully. "I'll keep him occupied for you, Don."

"Thanks, April. This won't take much longer."

The woman evaluated the muscular turtle as she confined him with very little effort. Raphael seemed more exposed without his trademark mask. The lines in his forehead indicated the pain he was experiencing, even if he couldn't understand that his brother was helping him. April let go of his wrist suddenly and grasped his hand instead, not minding that he didn't return her pressure.

"Hey, big guy," she said affectionately. "It's almost over, so be a good boy for Donny."

"Maybe if he le-go my hand," the turtle murmured.

"_I_ have your hand, Raph. It's April."

"April?" He pronounced the word like it was a mystery.

"Yup. Now that I know you understand me, don't try fighting Don."

Raphael groaned under his breath, suddenly opening his eyes. "April," he croaked.

"He sounds like he needs water, Donny."

Donatello reached for a sports bottle that was sitting nearby and handed it to April. "Let me help him sit up first." The purple-masked turtle adjusted the back of the bed and Raphael sighed as he was raised to a higher position.

"Thirsty, Raph?" April offered him the straw.

The older turtle attempted a drink and immediately grimaced.

"Does it hurt to swallow?" Don asked.

Raphael's glazed amber eyes searched for his brother. "Forgot to tell ya somethin', Genius."

"What's that?"

"'m sick."

Donatello nodded. "Yeah. You forgot." There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but he was quickly sympathetic once more. "I'm not going to force you to keep drinking if it hurts, but I _will _have to start you on an IV."

"I don't care," Raph said faintly, his eyes sliding closed.

Don sighed. "We'll get you feeling better, Bro, I promise."

When it was clear that the purple-masked turtle was finished, April let go of Raphael's hand, and extended an arm around Donatello. "You're not trying to do everything yourself, right?"

"No, just getting a jump on things before Marc joins me. It's nice to have you back, April."

"Nothing good ever happens when I leave. Do you need anything, Donny?"

He shook his head. "Mike has caffeine covered. I'm going to take the first shift with Raph, so hopefully Marc will get some rest with _you_."

"What about Luke?"

"I'll get around to calling him. I figure he needs a good night's sleep too."

"He won't be happy that you waited to call him."

Donatello shrugged. "I'll deal with it."

"I'm gonna get out of your hair then."

"That expression doesn't work on one of us, April."

"It still means the same thing. All right if I check in with you later?"

Donny nodded. "Your welcome here any time you want."

"All right. Well…don't wait _too_ long to call, Luke."

He shook his head. "I won't."

April left the lab and wandered back into the living area. The open space was empty and quiet. She stood still in the middle of the room for a moment, until she heard voices coming from down the hall. The woman identified Michelangelo and Marcus before she turned the corner to go to the lounge.

"…you can feel free to help yourself, Marc, but you know I'd be happy to make you something."

"Thanks, Mike. I'll let you cook for me tomorrow, okay? I need to get with Donny."

"Do you have time to see me?" April grinned at the way Marcus jumped when she came through the door.

"April. Mike said you made it here on your own. You didn't have to do that."

The woman chuckled. "I was fine, Marc. I've been making the trek longer than _you _have."

"That doesn't mean you can't let someone be a gentleman," Marcus pointed out.

"True enough," she allowed, studying the man carefully. Marcus had assured her that he was all right over the phone, but it felt better to see him in person.

He held out an arm to her, and April allowed the man to draw her into an embrace. "I'm sorry I couldn't meet you."

She shook her head fiercely. "No. You did the right thing. I would have been upset if you'd left Raphael in that condition. Not that I want to imagine _you _being in danger either."

"I did what I had to, and I got lucky. It could have ended very differently."

April gazed up at him for a couple beats of silence, and his grip around her waist never lessened. The man's quiet nature sometimes made it difficult for him to express himself fully, but he didn't need words for her to recognize how overwhelmed he was.

Mike cleared his throat in the background. "Yeah, okay. I'm gonna take Donny his coffee, and you guys catch up."

April was amused when Marcus turned a little red, but she managed to stifle a laugh for his sake. Forcing a more serious express, her fingers softly caressed his jawline. "You all right?"

He nodded. "Yeah. The Avalanche is kind of scraped up. It just barely fit into the alley."

"Did anyone see you?"

"I'm not sure. When I backed out of the alley, I know I saw a couple of people halfway down the block. Whether or not they were paying attention or would connect the dots is anyone's guess. But I did what I had to," he insisted.

"I don't doubt that. You don't act impulsively, Marc."

"I also happen to know where my real strength lies, and scaring off dirt-bags isn't in my job description. It was a strange feeling, if I'm being honest. I was sitting in the car waiting for the guys to show up and save the day, getting more nervous by the minute. I swear I almost had an asthma attack while I was doing _nothing_. But when I heard Raph, when I knew he was in mortal danger, it changed everything. Not my physical abilities of course, but my frame of mind. I basically went numb, and instantly had better control over my breathing."

"Adrenaline is a powerful thing, Marc. You probably changed from 'flight' to 'fight' mode pretty quickly."

"I wasn't going to leave him. I couldn't."

"You saved his life."

Marcus snorted. "All I did was show up."

"And the bad guys ran. If you hadn't made the decision to stand your ground, Raph probably wouldn't be here. That makes you a hero in my book."

He nuzzled her forehead with a shaky sigh. "Thanks. But I think I'd rather let someone else be the hero and stick to medical support. I'd probably live longer."

"That would be a plus," she agreed. "But we've _all_ done some pretty insane things where these guys are concerned."

"Leo wanted to give me grief about disobeying him at first, but I think _he _even gets it now."

She gave him a half smile. "You have some authority too, Marc. Don't be afraid to exercise it."

He snorted. "I'm better off staying in the background to fix the stuff the bad guys break. I'm a lot more suited to Donny's lab than the streets of New York."


	18. Diagnosis

Luke staggered through the bathroom door, heading back into his dim bedroom. Traces of brightness cut through the blinds, preventing a complete black-out because of the city lights. He'd never considered installing a heavier window covering though, because he knew it would make him feel like he was suffocating.

The man didn't need to check a clock to know that it wasn't time to get up yet. As he crawled back into bed however, a red light drew his attention to the nightstand. Luke's brow furrowed while he picked up his medical scanner, one of three identical machines that Donatello had designed for them. He'd gotten into the habit of leaving the device turned on while it was charging at night. The fact that the light was _flashing_ could only mean that some alert was crying out for attention.

Luke sat up against his headboard, scanning the main screen of the machine with bleary eyes. He was startled to find not one, but several medical flags. "_What_?"

He reached to turn on his lamp, instantly wider awake. Blue eyes squinted as he identified the source of the red flags. _Raph? What in the _world_? _The man sifted rapidly through screens, speed-reading at a rate that it made it difficult to comprehend all of the text. The two things that immediately stood out to him were the red-masked turtle's increase in temperature and _decrease_ in oxygenation. _What kind of insanity is this? Why didn't anyone _call_ me?_

Luke dropped his scanner on the bed and grabbed his cell phone, noting the time as being a little after 5AM. He clenched his jaw in irritation as he dialed Donatello.

"Hello?" the purple-masked turtle answered warily.

"I just logged on," the man said testily. "What the heck, Donny? Why didn't you pick up the phone?"

"I was going to. I just…I thought I'd let you get some decent sleep first."

"Raph's bordering on 105 degrees!"

"I _know_, Doc. The hydralin isn't making a dent."

Luke groaned in utter frustration. "Donny!"

"I wasn't trying to take on everything alone. Only one of us needed to take a shift at a time, and Marc is already here—"

"You called Marcus and you didn't call ME?"

"Doc, it's not what you're thinking! It's way more than complicated than that. I'll explain everything, but it would probably be easier in person."

"That's convenient, because I'll be on my way down in ten minutes."

* * *

The doctor was still burning with fury when he made it to the den, but a little of his anger faded when Donatello met him at the door with downcast eyes. "Where's Marcus?"

"Asleep with April in the lounge."

Luke laughed mirthlessly. "How did I end up being the _only_ one left out of the loop?"

"Come with me, Doc," the turtle said quietly.

The man needed no further prompting, and quickly followed behind Donny as he led the way into the lab. Luke stopped in his tracks upon first seeing Raphael. He hadn't expected to find the older turtle bereft of his mask, with his head partially wrapped in gauze.

"Donatello, what _happened_ to him?"

"It's sort of a long story, so I'll start with the short version. Raph got into trouble on the surface last night. The reason that Marc is already here is because he ended up in the middle of it too."

Luke shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense; no more than this strange drop in his oxygen levels."

Donny shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "It isn't critical yet, but I've been watching it. It sounds like fluid is accumulating in his lungs. Raphael has a lot of the classic flu symptoms, but he isn't coughing. I expect that could have something to do with it?"

Luke eyebrows rose as he digested what Donny had just told him. "I need to have a listen to his lungs myself." He knew that the slightly labored quality of the turtle's breathing only told part of the story.

The purple-masked turtle passed him the stethoscope wordlessly, and Luke adjusted the instrument into his ears. The man was dying to know the entire explanation behind whatever trouble Raphael _and_ Marcus had been in, but it could wait until he checked something.

A few seconds of listening to his breathing through the stethoscope revealed the intermittent popping sound that Luke _hadn't _wanted to hear. Inwardly the doctor cursed and felt himself paling. _This is probably all my fault. _

Slowly he removed the stethoscope from his ears, allowing the instrument to hang loosely around his neck. "This isn't a normal bug, Donny. I've heard this sound and seen this condition many times over the last month. I think Raph has the new strain of H1N1, and _I'm_ likely the one who gave it to him."

Don's brow creased with confusion. "But…Doc, you were inoculated! I was the one who came down with something, even if it was nowhere near this bad. Are you sure that trauma from last night couldn't have anything to do with the edema in his lungs?"

"Donny, I know what I'm talking about where this virus is concerned. I've seen it in action and been exposed to this particular strain for weeks. Just because I had the shot doesn't mean I can't _carry_ H1N1. You know there is a window of time that exists before antibodies kick in, enough that I could have transmitted it to you."

"If that _is_ true, why didn't I get sick like Raph is?"

"There are many cases where people already possess some built-up immunity to the new strain of the virus, based on their flu history. Their past experience with a specific 'version' of the flu puts them at less risk for contracting the current one. I think it's possible that you suffered a milder version because of an immunity _you_ could have built up. It's happening on the surface between other sets of siblings, with one child getting a lot sicker than the others."

"How can we know for sure?"

Luke shook his head. "We can't. The Center for Disease Control is the one who's testing for H1N1. But this 'crackle' I hear in his lungs accompanying the build-up of fluid is one of the unfortunate new hallmarks of this strain. The amount of pulmonary edema I've witnessed has a direct correlation to the rise in hospitalizations. The fact that he isn't coughing only hurts his case. The junk he's draining has nowhere to go _except_ his lungs."

"When you called me, I was already considering oxygen support."

Luke nodded. "We should take that step now. There's little more we can do than try to address the individual symptoms. Did you even try giving Raph tetrozine?"

Donny exhaled. "Marc and I conferred on dosages last night, and started him on a few units of both hydralin _and_ tetrozine."

"I _really_ wish you would have called me. You said that the hydralin isn't making a dent in his fever, and I don't see the tetrozine making a difference either. Don't bother giving him any more. The focus needs to be on keeping him hydrated and clearing up his chest."

"There's the fever too," Don said softly. "I hate the thought of it going any higher."

"Don, you guys have fought fevers without medication before, and we'll do it again."

The purple-masked turtle's gaze held apprehension. "People are dying from H1N1 in the hospital, where they have all the best treatments available. Young people _his_ age are dying."

Luke took a deep breath. _Okay, time to take a step back. _"Donny, why don't you sit down for a minute?"

"I've been sitting all night."

"Do it anyway."

Donatello obeyed that time, fixing Luke with a pleading look that the man wasn't sure how to interpret.

"First of all, Raphael is not on his deathbed," Luke started. "He's not in good condition, but it isn't time to panic. I'm sorry if I scared you with my opinion of his diagnosis. I'm used to being up front with you."

"Of _course_ it makes me nervous, Doc. That doesn't mean you shouldn't have told me."

"We're going to address all the major issues and use every natural means we can come up with to combat his symptoms. We _will _bring his fever down, Donny."

Don swallowed. "Sooner the better. It's getting dangerous."

"We're used to danger," Luke said evenly. "And you probably need some sleep. Haven't you been up all night?"

"Yeah, but—"

"But nothing. If you don't get enough rest, _your_ immune system is going to crash. I'm going to let you get me up to speed on how the evening started , we'll do a couple of things for Raph, and then you're going to your room for a few hours."

"Are you grounding me, Doc?"

"You can call it that if you want – I don't care. Some of your Sensei's herbal remedies may be able to help bring Raphael's fever down. Have you given any thought to that route?"

"A little…there's also a possibility that one of his old recipes could help clear up Raph's lungs too. Master Splinter used an onion poultice on us more than once as kids. It was pretty effective. The only problem with a poultice is that it needs to be applied along with _heat_. His fever would have to break first."

"Do you want to set up some fresh compresses for him? I'm going to start Raphael on the Oxi for now. Hopefully it will provide enough support for his respiration, and we won't have to resort to a stronger method of mechanical intervention."

Luke pondered different methods they could try to bringing Raphael's fever down while he set the bed up a little farther. He was on automatic pilot as he changed a setting on an Oxi mask and adjusted it over the older turtle's head.

Donatello's eyes were a little brighter as he returned from soaking a couple more compresses in the sink. "I never imagined the possibility of us being capable of exchanging viruses between us, Doc."

The man shrugged. "You have a lot of human DNA, Donny. Just because it isn't pure doesn't make us light-years apart genetically. I bet we're more similar than you've allowed for." Luke smiled suddenly. "If you _let_ things work out with Jen, who knows? Maybe there could be a kid in your future."

Donatello snorted. "Don't be ridiculous, Doc."

"I know, right? It's okay. At this rate, I probably won't have any kids either."

"Doc…" Donatello's face instantly fell.

Luke thumped his shell in a friendly way. "What I'm trying to say is that my life isn't empty, no matter what. But in the future, I don't want you deciding what I need to know, or _when_. Something happens, and you call me. Period."

Don gave him a faint smile. "Gotcha, Doc."

"Now. I'm still _very _interested to hear what in the world happened with Raph and Marcus."

"Raphael got into trouble by himself. Marcus just followed him."

"I'm not following _you_ yet, so you'd better keep talking."


	19. Perceptive

Michelangelo juggled his cereal bowl in the crook of his arm as he also carried a mug in each hand through the kitchen door. He was disappointed to see that Leonardo had already taken up residence in the living area with the remote control, but didn't bother saying anything to his brother yet. He needed to give the docs their coffee delivery before he did anything else.

Leaving his cereal bowl on a side-table, he rapped his elbow on the door to the lab. Marcus appeared after a few moments, and Mike grinned at the man. "Morning. Are you the gatekeeper?"

The dark-haired doctor made a menacing face. "Sure. Do I look scary enough?"

"Mmm…I think you need some work on that, Marc." The orange-masked turtle held out both of the coffee mugs. "Cream and two sugars for Doc…and your health kick, Marc." Mike made a face, and Marcus laughed.

"You can't blame a guy for trying."

"Breakfast will not be sugar free – I'm just warning you."

"Thanks, Mike," Luke called over from across the room.

"Did Donny go to bed okay for ya? I didn't even hear him come in."

"It was a little after six, and Don didn't fight me _too_ hard. I'm sure he was ready to sleep, what with barely being a 100% himself." Luke came over to retrieve his coffee and fixed Mike with steely eye contact. "If Donny ever tries to keep me out of the loop again, it'd better be _you_ calling me. Is that understood?"

Mike took an unconscious step backwards. "Um…yeah, Doc. I'm your turtle."

"I thought so."

"How's Raph?"

Luke shook his head. "Not so good right now. We're just waiting on his fever to break."

Michelangelo grimaced. "No fun. You guys let me know when you're ready for real food, okay?"

"We're looking at implementing a couple of natural methods to help reduce Raph's temperature before we can address other things. We might be ready for something in about an hour, but it'll depend on what we decide," Luke replied.

"What 'other' things?"

"Cleaning up the congestion from his lungs, most importantly. We'll update you guys periodically, all right?"

_That's my cue to skedaddle. _"Okay, Doc. Later."

Mike backed up into the living area and sat down on the couch next to where he'd left his cereal. He sighed loudly when he realized that his oldest brother was watching the _News_.

"It's _Saturday_, Leo. Can't you ever take a day off? Power Rangers is on."

"And there will be a second one on in fifteen minutes," Leo returned. "It _is_ just a TV show, Mikey."

"It's better than the boring stuff you're subjecting me to."

"You can have the TV at the top of the hour, okay, Bro?"

The orange-masked turtle was surprised by how quickly Leonardo gave in. Granted, he was used to fighting Raph for control of the remote, but even his oldest brother was prone to force the 'work first-play later' mantra, and there had been no mention of katas.

"You okay, Leo?"

The blue-masked turtle made eye contact with him. "I'll be better when the docs have a handle on Raph. It's the same old waiting game."

Mike nodded. "But the whole medical team is here at work now. Doc will whip Raph back into shape."

"He might whip _all_ of us if Don ever waits that long to call him again."

Mike grinned. "Did Doc already get to you too? I almost feared for my life for a second there."

Leonardo chuckled, and Mike enjoyed the sound. "It's amazing how frightening a man with a stethoscope can be." Leo glanced at the TV again. "I guess I don't really need to watch this. I'll go ahead and loosen up a little. You _could_ join me later." The blue-masked turtle nudged the remote toward him, and trotted to the hallway.

The youngest turtle was all set to change the channel, when the flash of a familiar-looking storefront made his finger freeze in mid-air. _Could that be_…he trailed off as the announced started speaking.

_"Up next is a deeper look at the bizarre situation one family awoke to this morning, when they discovered themselves to be prisoners inside their own home. Our Shelley Rudolph is reporting."_

"Leo!" he called quickly. "You'd better come see this! Hurry up!"

Leonardo gave him a quizzical look as he returned, and Mike rapidly motioned to the TV screen, where a woman was already standing on a street corner.

_"This morning started like any other for Albert Chavez, who rises early to prepare for his customers who are being hit hard by this flu season…"_

Leo gasped when the camera panned over the store front of the Pharmacy once more. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Listen, Leo!" he urged.

_"…no evidence of foul play until he went to open the front door, and discovered that he'd been locked in from the outside. Bystanders who stopped to assist the family found that every exit of the building which serves as both business and home to the Chavez family was blocked by these."_

The camera view switched to a large pile of chains and padlocks, and Mike grabbed his brother's arm as something occurred to him. "Bro. Those men that Raph caught up with—"

"They weren't just trying to burn down a building," Leo filled in grimly. "They meant to murder that family. If Raph knew, if he'd heard something…I might understand him getting involved, even if he wasn't physically up for it."

"_…the evidence of gasoline wasn't discovered until after the police had been notified. NYPD have been canvassing the neighborhood since, searching for additional clues concerning the nature of the crime that could have taken five lives in the overnight hours._

_ "At least one witness has already come forward to identify a vehicle that he saw leaving the scene of the crime. Police are also on the look out for what's being described as a dark blue or black Chevrolet Suburban."_

Both turtles released a deep breath at the same time.

"It's okay," Mike said uncertainly. "They got the car wrong."

Leonardo shot a glance at the lab. "Just the same, Marc can't take the Avalanche anywhere until Don has a chance to work on it. That was way too close."

* * *

Mike wasn't in the mood for any more TV after catching the news report, so he decided to check if Splinter was awake. He hesitated for almost a full minute outside his Master's quarters, trying to work up the positivity that wasn't coming easily today. When the orange-masked turtle inched the door open, he found Splinter resting on his side.

"Michelangelo. What is happening with your brother?" Splinter's lack of a greeting could only mean he'd been worrying.

"What'd Donny tell you last night?"

"Next to nothing," the rat growled. "I _know_ you will not make the same mistake."

"He's just been busy. I don't think Donny would wanna hide everything from you, Sensei."

"No, just _most_ things. How is Raphael hurt?"

"He has a head injury, but Donny already fixed it up. He said it wasn't 'that' bad."

"What else? Your brother also said that Raphael might be running a fever."

"Uh…yeah, Sensei, Raph's sick all right, but the docs are looking after him."

Splinter's brow creased. "I want to speak with one of them when we are finished, Michelangelo."

"_Hai_, Sensei. Do you want me to get Doc for you right now?"

"No, my son, not until we are finished," he repeated.

"You've gotta be hungry too, Master."

The rat sighed achingly. "It can wait but a little while, Michelangelo." Keen onyx eyes probed the turtle. "You are disturbed by the events of last night."

"Men tried to hurt Raph a lot worse than they managed to," he admitted. "If Marc hadn't been around, they woulda killed him."

"I see. But Dr. Sloan was able to…stop them?"

Mike nodded. "He seriously risked his bu—his life, Sensei. Marcus could have been killed too."

"I have a feeling there is a very long story behind all of this." Splinter sounded tired.

"Yeah," Mike said quietly. "Sure you don't want to eat something first?"

"It will not help me to discover the truth behind what happened." Splinter settled on his back to stare up at the ceiling. "I am sick, Michelangelo, but I am not feeble of mind, even if the rest of my body is betraying me. Being treated in this 'careful' manner is almost as frustrating as the symptoms I deal with every day."

Mike cringed. "We're not hurting you on purpose, Sensei. I guess we're trying to make things…easier. You're already dealing with a lot, and no one wants to stress you out."

"Keeping me in the dark will _also_ 'stress me out.'"

"I understand, Sensei." Mike's voice suddenly felt hoarse. "And I'm sorry."

Splinter's eyes returned to him. "You can still talk to me, Michelangelo. You and your brothers are not a burden. You never have been, at least not in the sense that you were difficult to carry. The four of you have been my greatest joy for decades, and _your_ mere presence is enough yet to make me smile."

Mike hesitated. "I miss you. Having you around to correct me is great incentive," he added, trying to lighten up the admission.

"Your growth does not require as much correction now, Michelangelo."

"That's not true, Sensei. I know you've got at _least _twenty more years of discipline to go with me." He passed the words off as a joke, but he was certain his Master sensed their deeper meaning.

"You and your brothers have developed into adults, my son. You are no longer little children that I must lead by the hand."

"That doesn't meant we don't need you. There're a lot of things I don't know, Sensei. It could take a _long _time to straighten me out completely."

"Much of what the four of you lack are things that I cannot teach you, Michelangelo. Such lessons can come only through experience. You have become _fine _ninja warriors with hearts that value honor and compassion above anything else. I could not ask for better students or sons."

The orange-masked turtle tried to smile. "I still think you have a few things left to grind into me, Master. I'm a _slow_ learner," Mike exaggerated.

Splinter's chest heaved with the effort it took to draw a good breath. "You are many things, Michelangelo, but slow is not one of them."

Mike's brow furrowed as he sensed true resignation behind his father's eyes. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to run out of the room and forget what he'd seen, but he knew it would be impossible. "Sensei, you're not…Y-you can't…" The rest of the words stuck in his throat, refusing to emerge.

The orange-masked turtle turned his head so that Splinter couldn't see his face. "I…I'm going to start your breakfast, Master. I'll send one of the docs to talk to you about Raph."

"Michelangelo, you don't need to go."

"Yeah, I kinda do." Mike quickly left the room, not trusting himself to hold it together for another second.


	20. Bonds

Leonardo was hungry when he wandered into the kitchen, but the thought of food faded to the background as he watched how vigorously his orange-masked brother was stirring a pan on the stove. It wasn't unusual for Michelangelo to put a lot of energy into his cooking, but the jerky motions he was currently using were more indicative that something was _wrong_.

"Mikey? What's going on?"

"What do you think?" The short reply was further evidence of his youngest brother's state of mind.

"Do you want to stop doing that for a minute and talk to me?"

"I have to finish this."

"O-kay, but that doesn't mean you ca—"

"Leave it alone," his brother advised him, never taking his eyes off the stove.

"I don't understand." Leonardo folded his arms, refusing to move away. "Did I do something?"

Mike picked up the pan and dropped it into the sink with a resounding _bang_. "Not everything is about you, Leo." He added a small amount of water to the pot and stirred it once more.

"Why are you acting like this?"

His brother ignored the question as he transferred hot cereal into a bowl. "Would you mind taking this to Sensei? I'm going to get started on breakfast for the docs."

Leonardo took the proffered bowl, but continued gazing at Mike. "I really don't want to go _anywhere_ until you tell me what your problem is."

"Leave it _alone_," Mike repeated, and turned around to face the counter. "Sensei's tea is by the microwave."

The blue-masked turtle grabbed the tea cup and slowly left the kitchen, glancing back over his shoulder as he did. _I don't get what could have made him that mad. This isn't like him at all, but I can't force him to talk to me. _In the short amount of time it took to travel the distance to Splinter's quarters, he wracked his brain to go over their last conversation. _I don't remember saying anything to Mike that could have triggered this._

The sound of another door shutting made Leonardo turn his head right before he was going to enter Splinter's quarters.

"Good morning," April called.

"Morning," he answered, not finding it in himself to add a "good". "Did you get enough sleep?"

"Is that code for saying that I look wasted?"

Leonardo almost cracked a smile. "No, you don't…but our night _was_ rather eventful."

"It's nothing that some of your brother's coffee won't cure. You don't think Don finished it all off last night, do you?"

The turtle snorted. "Don, run out of coffee? He'd never let it happen. It would practically be a doom's day event."

April came farther down the hall to meet him. "Probably. You okay, Leo?"

He shrugged. "Just one more day when I don't understand what's happening around me."

"The docs are telling you _something_, aren't they?"

"It's not them. Something's bothering Mike, and he won't tell me what it is. I'm not even sure if he's angry with me, or in general. Tread carefully in the kitchen, okay?"

The woman nodded meekly. "I'll watch my step. Thanks for the warning."

Leonardo walked into the dimmer interior of his Master's room, and found Splinter staring off into space. "Sensei? I have your breakfast."

The rat blinked, and whatever spell he'd been under was broken. "Oh. Thank you, my son."

When Splinter's gaze still felt distant, Leonardo cleared his throat. "Am I disturbing you, Father?"

"No, Leonardo. My mind is occupied – that is all."

"Are you ready to eat?"

"Not quite yet. I wonder, would you mind asking Doctor Sloan to come see me? One of those treatments for my breathing would be appreciated. Michelangelo also told me that he intervened for Raphael last night."

_Ah. He wants to milk Marcus for information_.

"Yes, Sensei. Would you like me to keep your breakfast warm for you?"

"It will not take long, Leonardo. You may leave it."

"All right." Leo started for the door, but then looked back. "Father, did Mike tell you if anything was bothering him? He's acting strange."

Splinter sighed, his breath catching in his throat.

"He wouldn't talk to me, Sensei. I don't think I said anything to upset him, but…I haven't been very good at this lately, not the way I've been fighting with Raph. I drove him to run last night…and he could have been killed."

"You will soon find it impossible to stand if you try to bear the weight of this family on your own, Leonardo. Your youngest brother is not angry with _you_…he too has much on his mind. As for Raphael, he chose his own path, whether it was right or wrong. While you are responsible for helping look after your brothers, you are not accountable for all _their_ actions."

* * *

Splinter dismissed Leonardo in the least painful fashion that he could think of, which was to request medical assistance from one of their doctors. He wanted to hear the entire story of what had happened with Raphael, and he _didn't_ want to be forced to explain Michelangelo's behavior to his oldest son yet.

The rat wasn't happy that the orange-masked turtle had discerned what he'd been harboring between himself and Dr. Barrows for the moment. _There were will be a time to discuss everything openly, but it has not yet come. I did not even confirm anything for Michelangelo, though his own perception seems to have picked up enough._

Splinter dearly wanted to comfort his youngest son and assure him that the circumstances were temporary, but he didn't have it in him to lie to Michelangelo. He felt terrible for upsetting the orange-masked turtle and for not being up front with Leonardo about it, but it didn't seem like the appropriate time to discuss his eventual death. _That moment must be mine to choose and control. I will not act on a whim or based on what someone else is feeling._

His mind raced with images, memories so vivid that he felt like he could reach out and touch them with his hands. From the first vulnerable moment he'd met the ones who were destined to be his children, to training them day in and day out to defend themselves, but still protect each other.

_They will _continue_ to protect each other, just like last night. These arguments and disagreements between my oldest two are not rooted in hatred for one another. When they need to come together, they will. I have to believe that. I have to trust that the bonds are strong enough to withstand anything._

His door cracked open, and Marcus appeared.

"Good morning, Master Splinter."

"Dr. Sloan." He immediately sat up a bit farther. "I understand that I owe you my gratitude."

"Your gratitude? Oh…you mean Raph? I got pretty lucky is all."

Splinter shook his head. "You risked your life for him. That is no small thing."

The dark-haired doctor ducked his head. "It's nothing compared to the actions of your sons out on the streets, night after night. They risk themselves for complete strangers. That's why Raphael got into trouble to begin with. He rescued a family that some bad men were trying to kill, even though he barely had the strength to function. Didn't matter, he went anyway, because that's the kind of awesome son you raised."

Splinter smiled faintly. "My thanks to you remains."

"Your welcome, Master Splinter. I wish I could have prevented him from being hurt altogether."

"You did more than enough, Dr. Sloan."

The man smiled shyly. "Well…that's enough about me. Leonardo said you requested a breathing treatment."

Splinter nodded. "Yes, I feel it is necessary. Perhaps you could fill me in on Raphael's condition while we are in progress?"

Marcus reached to turn on the mask he'd brought with him, fiddling with one of the settings before hooking it over Splinter's mouth. "Raph's head injury is under control. His fever…not so much. He's over 105 degrees at the moment, and the hydralin isn't helping."

The rat's eyebrows rose.

"There's also an issue with chest congestion which is hindering Raphael's breathing. He's not producing a cough, and it's led to fluid building up in his lungs."

Splinter's forehead creased with concern. "This does not sound like what Donatello had."

"Luke is fairly certain that Raphael contracted H1N1. Whether Donny had a milder form of it or something else entirely, it honestly doesn't matter at this point. We're just working on getting Raph well. Luke mentioned that Don suggested trying something you used to do for them, a poultice?"

The rat nodded eagerly. "Yes. It could be beneficial for him."

"Do you have a certain formula that you used to follow?"

Splinter nodded once more. "There is not much to it, Dr. Sloan. I can still tell you the recipe from memory."

"That would be good, but let's finish _your_ breathing treatment first."

"Will you let me see Raphael?"

Marcus hesitated from answering right away. "I don't know. Luke will need to have the final say on whether it's safe or not. We're not allowing Leo or Mike contact to be safe…but I have to see what Luke thinks."

"If Raphael is this ill, I do not mind taking the risk."

Marcus gave him a stern look. "Do you want to end up with the flu on top of whatever else you're dealing with?"

"No, but there _must_ be a way to make it happen. He is my _son_. Please ask Dr. Barrows to allow me to come. I feel that this is important."

"I'll do what I can," the man promised. "I'll need to follow your instructions for the poultice, in any case. I've never seen how this works."

Splinter shook his head. "It can induce a rather violent reaction, but I usually found it to be effective. Will you let me show you in person?"

"If Luke clears you, I'm game for anything."


	21. Remedies

***It's been a while since we checked in with Raph, huh? That's about to change, but I wanted to give you a small vocabulary lesson first, to make it easier to understand what's going on. The methods being employed are grounded in herbal medicine, which Splinter fortunately has a lot of experience with. **

**A tincture is a concentrated liquid extract of herbs, which can be used internally or externally, as in Raphael's case. An onion poultice is extremely beneficiary for breaking up chest congestion, and involves little more than making a paste and applying along with heat. It's not much fun, but it's all part of the process...**

* * *

His head hurt. It hurt, and it wouldn't _stop_ hurting. The turtle couldn't understand why the chills that were making the rest of his body feel numb had absolutely no effect on the raging headache. Raphael was irritated enough to put his fist through a wall, but his arms were currently much too heavy to lift.

The only thing competing for his annoyance with the non-stop throbbing was the limited amount of breath he could draw. The blanket covering his plastron felt like a mountain, crushing the life out of his chest. The sheer effort it took to fill his lungs with air was astounding.

He felt the familiar tight fit of an Oxi over his mouth, but it had taken him a long time to realize what the mask was. _At least it _felt_ like a long time. I don't know how long I've been lying here. Seems like days._

There were voices occasionally, but most of them felt far away, as if they were traveling through a distant tunnel to reach him. Other times they were oddly high-pitched and grating, or babbling in a language that he couldn't recognize. When Raphael tried to speak in return, his tongue wouldn't cooperate with his brain, leaving the turtle to wonder if he'd forgotten how to talk entirely.

Raphael would have been satisfied to do nothing but sleep, but the difficulty with breathing made it impossible to rest deeply. At the moment, he wasn't sure if he was awake or asleep. The only thing he knew for certain was that he was exhausted and overwhelmed by the exertion of accomplishing _anything_.

_Breathe in and out. I can do that much. Long as I don't forget to remind myself. No pressure._

The sensation of fresh dampness settling around his neck encouraged him to believe in the _reality_ of what he was feeling. He tried to open his eyes, and they made it about halfway. The turtle could make out a fuzzy patch of blue, which slowly transformed from an indistinct blur into the hovering figure of someone he recognized.

"Raph?"

_Doc. _He wanted to respond to him, to ask Luke to knock him out if nothing else, so he could find some relief. The turtle's mouth still wasn't working. He struggled to simply stay focused on the man in front of him and grasp what _he_ was saying.

"…some of this might get a little strong, but it's nothing you haven't dealt with before."

_What? How'd I miss something already?_

"We have to bring your fever down before we can take the next step."

_Why am I bothering to listen? I'll be lucky if I remember any of this._

"…keep doing the best we can to make your comfortable."

Raphael wanted to laugh. _You think I'm comfortable, Man? You should trade places with me._

A sharp scent caught the turtle's attention and drew his eyes back to Luke. The smell was reminiscent of something from the past. It was predominated by vinegar, but he could also detect herbal elements. _Why's that familiar?_

"The tincture solution should help cool you down as it evaporates from your skin. We're going old school, Raph, but Marc and I have an expert to help us."

_Evaporates? _Raphael watched in confusion as the doctor began applying compresses to his exposed skin, all bearing the same peculiar scent as the first. The turtle shuddered. _Why do I need to get cooler? I'm already freezing._

"I know you don't feel well, and I'm really sorry. We're going to help you," Luke said firmly.

Sheer determination allowed Raphael to crack his lips. "Thir-sty."

"You've been having a really hard time swallowing. I know it isn't fair to ask you to wait, but you choked on the last three attempts."

_There were attempts?_

"We can try some ice chips if you'd just like some moisture."

"No." The single syllable was the only other thing he could force out as his eyes slid closed.

"Resting is good, Raph. You'll get through this, and then we can work on the next part."

_Wish I knew what that was,_ he thought bleakly, before rational thought dropped away from him again.

* * *

The next several minutes/hours/days were a blur. The concept of time meant nothing to the turtle, because it was impossible to measure. The heat was oppressive, boiling, burning to the point that he almost _missed_ the ice in his bones. He was uncomfortable in the skin that had become a furnace, and more thirsty than ever.

The touch of soft coolness against his face drew Raphael to open his eyes, and he managed a little wider than before.

"You're doing really well, Raph." Luke's voice was soothing, but the turtle felt so terrible that he wanted to punch him. "Your fever is breaking. As soon as your temperature drops a bit lower, we can apply the poultice."

_Poultice?_ From the recesses of his memories, the word struck a chord. _Sensei used to make those…I remember that one winter when I was so sick I could hardly breathe. Kind of like _now_, only I don't recall my head ever hurting this much. When's someone gonna do something about that? _He gave Luke a desperate glance, wishing the man could read his thoughts.

"…have to apply heat along with the poultice for it to work its magic."

_More heat? Are you outta your mind? I'm on fire as it is._

"This is all working toward the goal of helping you breathe easier, Raph. That sounds good, doesn't it?"

The turtle managed a grunt in response.

"I'll take that as a yes."

_You're a freaking genius. Now make me feel better._

Another wave of heat rolled over him, and his vision fazed along with it. He closed his eyes and longed for sleep. The faint sound of someone working in the background faded in and out like a radio tuner that was searching for a station with signal strength.

"I think that we ought to proceed, Dr. Barrows. I cannot bear to watch this any longer."

The voice made Raphael jolt and immediately try to open his eyes.

"Easy, Raph," Luke encouraged him.

_No, not him, it wasn't…_"Sensei?" he whispered.

"I am here, my son." His father's voice was a rock that he was happy to cling to.

"Where?"

"Do not force yourself to speak, Raphael, not just yet."

"I…need…"

"Shh. Not yet," Splinter ordered.

_I wanna see you. I need to break out of my own head. Help me, Sensei._

"Apply the gauze first, over the entire area," Splinter said. "You will get better coverage that way. The warm towel goes on top of the poultice."

"How long do you want to leave it on to…"

Words buzzed beyond his comprehension, and Raphael was disappointed to retreat. He would have much rather held onto his father's voice.

When his mind drifted this time, confusing scents still warred with his senses. The sharp vinegar smell was being overwhelmed by onions now. It reminded Raphael more of being in the kitchen than a hospital. _Not in a hospital. Can't go there._

He tried rolling his neck to the side, and was grateful to find that he could at least move his head. However, it did nothing to help the incessant drum beat in his skull. He imagined that the only thing which could make things worse at that moment was the urge to cough developing in his throat. He fought against the tickle with every ounce of energy he had. Raphael's breath turned into a gasp as he battled the evil compulsion.

"No, Raph, relax," Luke urged. "Let it out. You'll feel better."

_I seriously doubt it_.

Regardless, he _couldn't_ hold it back forever, and he knew it. The back of the bed supporting him rose higher, and he felt hands removing the ever-present Oxi mask. The cough that began feebly in his throat rapidly compounded upon itself, forcing him to gag violently.

Someone guided him with firm hands to lean in a different position. He had no control over the impulse which caused him to wretch so hard that he swore he lost an organ. Raphael heaved for air in between coughing and his head feeling like it was going to explode, eventually weakened to the point that he slumped forward.

A pair of arms caught him, supporting him back to where he wanted him to be. Raphael's eyes opened, focusing first on Marcus holding a pan for him.

"You're going to be all right, Raph," Luke told him.

Raphael fixed a murderous glance on the blond-haired doctor holding on to him. "I _hate_ you," he rasped.

"You're going to love us when you can breathe normally."

He suffered through several more seconds of the wretched coughing before he could speak again. "_Hurts_."

"I'm sorry, Raph. It has to come up."

The turtle was sweating so badly by the time his body stopped churning that it felt like he'd been inside a sauna. He was completely worn out, but breathing was already much less of a chore.

"Feels good to clear your lungs, doesn't it?" Luke suggested.

"Shut up," he retorted, without any real power behind his voice.

"You did well, Raph. If you can hold on to _some_ of that cough, you won't need to do that again."

"I will h-hurt you," he threatened.

"That is no way to speak to your friend, Raphael," Splinter chided him.

The turtle's eyes roved to the right, searching out his Sensei. The rat was seated slightly apart from them, bearing a mask of his own.

"It was my recipe that made you sick just now," his father continued. "Would you like to hurt _me_?"

"No, Sensei."

"Be nice to your healers, my son. They are fighting hard to make you better."

"My head," he moaned. "Please?"

"Oh…" Luke stood to his feet. "Mix the flu with a concussion, and it doesn't make for fun times. I don't want to throw anything too heavy at you, Raph, because I don't want to knock you out completely. Maybe some more of your Sensei's herbs could come into play."

"Long as I don't throw up," he said sleepily, exhaling with the sweetest breath he'd had in hours.


	22. Reality

Donatello stirred when his cell phone rang, and rolled over to grab the device off the side of his mattress. He started to answer the phone, but the sound of someone sniffing made him jolt in surprise. He looked up to see Michelangelo sitting across the room on the rug, and his normally blue eyes were red as though he'd been crying.

The purple-masked turtle took a sharp breath before he answered the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Donny. I'm sorry I couldn't call you this morning," Jenna greeted him. "The workshop took longer than I planned."

"Listen, uh…don't worry about it, Jen. I'm sort of in a bad spot right now. Can I call you back in a little while?"

"Yeah, it's okay. Is everything all right?"

Don sighed heavily. "Not completely, but it's a long story. I'll explain everything when I call you back."

"Okay – but don't forget. I love you."

"I love you too." Donatello hung up the phone and scooted to the edge of his bed. "Mike? What's wrong?"

The orange-masked turtle stared at him for several seconds without speaking, and Donny's brow creased with concern.

"_Talk_ to me, Mike. Did something happen with Raph? Is he—"

His younger brother held up a hand to cut him off. "No. It's not Raph."

"Why are you just sitting there? How long have you been waiting like that? Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Don didn't mean to ask so many questions at once, but they spilled out of his mouth one after another.

"Are you hiding stuff from us?"

"What?"

"_Are_ you hiding things about Sensei from the rest of us?"

Donny rubbed the remainder of the sleep from his eyes with confusion. "Why would I be hiding something, Mikey?"

"I don't know. For the same reason you hide _anything_. You tend to keep things from people sometimes."

"Bro, where in the world is this coming from?"

"You didn't answer my question. Are you keeping something from us about Sensei?"

"No! If I have any idea of what was wrong with Master Splinter, I wouldn't keep it to myself. Despite Raph's nickname for me, I honestly don't know _everything_, Mike. I have limitations and unknowns that I deal with all the time. I would appreciate it if you wouldn't accuse of me of trying to deceive everyone."

His brother stared at the floor. "Master Splinter knows something."

"Mike, will you stop talking in riddles and tell me straight out what you mean?"

"You really haven't seen it?"

The purple-masked turtle massaged his temples, attempting to contain his irritation. "It would help if you could be a little more specific."

Mike shook his head as he climbed to his feet. "You guys are the experts. You're supposed to know these things."

The younger turtle stalked out of the room, and Don lunged off the bed to pursue him. Mike was halfway down the stairs by the time he got to the hall.

"Mike! Why the shell won't you _talk_ to me? Where are you going?"

The orange-masked turtle paused at the bottom of the steps. "Don't follow me."

"Would you wait a minute? _Mike!"_ He hurried down the stairs after him.

His brother didn't hesitate from striding out the door, leaving Donny standing stunned in the hallway. Donatello was considering following him despite Mike's instructions, when the door to the dojo swung open.

"Did Mike just leave?" his oldest brother asked.

"Leo, what is going ON with him? How long was I asleep?"

"Don't feel bad, Don. He's been like that since this morning, and he wouldn't talk to me about it either."

Donny's shoulders slumped. "He _always_ talks to me."

"Whatever this is, it's not personal," Leo said quickly. "Don't take it to heart. Mike will come around."

Don looked down at the cell phone he was clutching in his hand, and then back at the door. He was still fighting the urge to charge after his younger brother.

"It'll be okay, Don." Leo rested an arm around his shoulder. "In the meantime, I promise not to run out on you."

Donatello gave the door one more longing glance, and then allowed Leonardo to direct him away from the exit.

"You want something to drink? Coffee maybe?"

"I want to check on Raph."

"That's a good idea, but the docs won't let you in unless you eat something first."

"Doc didn't tell me that rule."

"No, but he made sure _I_ knew. You'd better get to the kitchen, in any case. You already got me into trouble for not calling Doc myself last night."

"I got _you_ in trouble?"

"Yup. So come with me, and let's see what kind of leftovers we're dealing with."

"That sounds a lot safer than letting you try to make something from scratch, Leo."

"It wasn't funny the first 2,000 times, and it still isn't, Don."

"How many people can actually say they blew up a microwave, Bro?"

"I _didn't_ make it…" Leonardo trailed off when another door swung open down the hall.

Both turtles waited as a small shadow was cast across the floor, and Splinter shuffled out of his room.

"Sensei? Are you all right?" Don asked.

"Yes," he said quietly. "But I fear that I am at fault for your brother's behavior."

The rat swayed on his feet, and Leonardo moved rapidly to support him.

"What do you mean, Sensei?" the blue-masked ventured. "Will you sit down and talk to us?"

"I can see no way around it," he replied.

Donatello noticed that Splinter didn't refuse Leo's help in making it across the room. He was grateful that his Master wasn't trying to push him away, but the rat still sounded winded by the time he got to the couch.

"Michelangelo visited with me this morning. I did not mean to upset him—"

"Master," Don interrupted apologetically. "Rest for a minute and catch your breath. We're not in a hurry."

Splinter looked annoyed, but concentrated on drawing a few shallow breaths before continuing. "Your youngest brother needed some assurance from me today, and I did not give it to him. He seeks certainty where it does not exist. I am sure that Michelangelo expected me to comfort him, to tell him that I will recover, and things will be as they were before. But I do not know if that is true."

Donatello snuck a look at Leonardo, and saw his brother swallow.

"I _do_ know that the time for lying in my bed and hoping for a recovery that may not come on its own is over," Splinter went on. "I have reconsidered, Donatello. Once the crisis with Raphael is past, I will allow the biopsy to proceed as you and our doctors wish."

"Biopsy?" Leo repeated.

"Doc suggested it," Don supplied. "It came up a couple of days ago, but we haven't done anything with the idea yet."

"Because I would not relent at the time," the rat said. "But whether or not I like the results will not change the reality of what _is_. You would all like to know the truth, and so would I."

Donny nodded nervously."Then we'll make the plans, Sensei…once everything settles back down."

* * *

The purple-masked turtle felt like his stomach was in knots when he walked into the lab. He discovered the blond doctor alone, sitting a couple of feet away from his sick brother.

"Hey." Luke gave him an appraising glance. "You get enough sleep?"

"Yeah…but I woke up to craziness. Mike walked out on me. He's upset about Sensei and kind of went off."

"What did he say, Donny?"

"He kept asking if we were hiding something, and I didn't know what he was talking about. It felt like he was angry with me."

"He's not," Luke said. "It's probably a defense mechanism. Mike doesn't know how to deal with what he's feeling, so he lashed out. It's not unusual behavior when dealing with this kind of circumstance."

"It's unusual for _him_. Mike's been the most positive voice throughout these last few months."

"No one is strong _all_ the time, Donny."

"No, I…guess not. But it got Sensei to agree to the biopsy."

"Did he?"

"Just now, in front of Leo no less."

Luke exhaled. "Good. Then we can start planning that while we're working on getting Raph back on his feet."

Donny came closer to the bed. "How is he doing? His breathing sounds better."

"It _is _better. You should have seen what he coughed up. It was pretty intense."

The purple-masked turtle grimaced. "Sorry I had to miss it."

"His temperature topped out around 106 degrees by noon. We employed a vinegar tincture per your Sensei's directions."

Don cocked his head. "And it was effective?"

"It brought his temperature down four degrees over the course of two hours. I hated to apply heat to him, but we needed it for the poultice. His temp is back up to 104."

Donatello sighed. "I feel bad for him. I wish it didn't have to hit Raph this hard."

A deep cough wracked his brother's chest, and Raphael shifted ever so slightly against the back of the raised bed.

"Raph?" Donny took the rag that Luke had just finished soaking, and applied it to his brother's forehead.

Raphael coughed again, and his breathing faltered for a moment before settling into rhythm. "Genius?" he murmured.

"I'm here."

Amber eyes opened and searched left and right to fix on him.

Donny grasped his arm to reassure him. "Hey. I'm right here."

"'bout time. Ain't seen you in…days."

He considered correcting him, but thought better of it. "Would you like to try drinking something?"

"Yeah."

Luke handed him a bottle and Donatello inserted the straw in Raph's mouth. His older brother grimaced while he took a couple of sips, but swallowed without serious difficulty.

"Do you want any more?"

"Nah, 'm tired." His eyes closed as another cough rattled his chest. "Don't disappear on me."

"I won't, Raph; I'm not going anywhere." _Whether you realize it or not._

Don was relieved to find Raphael's condition semi-under control, but the relief was short-lived. The condition his _Sensei _had been dealing with for months was about to be truly tested, and like Splinter, he wasn't sure he'd like what they found.

_But we can't bury our heads in the sand and ignore this. The truth is there, and we have to get to the bottom of it._


	23. Field Trip

Michelangelo kicked his feet through the dust on the side of the wide path, careful to avoid the lights that lined the exhibits. The orange-masked turtle knew that the Zoo wasn't completely abandoned, despite the late hour. He'd been meandering around the edge of the outdoor habitats for about an hour, looking for animals which had mostly been no-shows.

_They've got enough sense to be eating or sleeping somewhere else, not hanging around their outdoor enclosure in case some nut comes by to see them at night._

The only real signs of life he'd witnessed so far were the rustling of greenery and bushes inside the snow monkeys' habitat. Although he was fairly sure that he was hearing them, the turtle couldn't catch a glimpse of the animals in the darkness.

Mike had worked his way around the temperate zone to the arctic area, and the outdoor pool where the polar bears swam. _At least they do during the day. Coming here was a waste of time tonight. I guess the closest I'm ever getting to "wildlife" is Animal Planet._

The turtle picked out a cement curb several feet away from the lights and settled down. He gazed sadly at the enclosure across from him and shook his head. _It figures I wouldn't see anything. Like everything else, it doesn't work out. I don't know why I'm even surprised._

Mike rested his chin in his hand and his surroundings became fuzzy while his mind wandered. _I wonder if these animals could know any better. Is it possible for them to enjoy living in a place like this, or do they understand that they don't belong in captivity? I'm probably giving the animals too much credit, but I gotta wonder. _

_If they could think and make their own choice, I don't know what they'd pick. The animals are taken care of here. They get food and medicine…and nothing's trying to eat them. But they're not free. They can't go wherever they want, do what they want. _

_Most of 'em were probably born in a place like this, so it's normal for them. Normal to be caged up, normal to do the same thing every day for their entire lives. It's interesting to weigh the options against each other. On the one hand, you have complete safety and security, but on the other…I know I'd rather be free. I'd rather get to _live_._

Michelangelo sighed quietly. _Part of me wishes _we_ didn't know any better. It's not a bad life underground, but that's mostly because we've always had each _other_._ He shifted on the curb, snapping up his cell phone. He stared at the device for a long silent moment before deciding to make the call.

"Hello? Mike?" His purple-masked brother picked up rapidly on the second ring.

"Hi," he said sheepishly. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing right now. What about you? I've been kinda worried."

Mike snorted. "Tell the truth, Donny. You've been keeping tabs on me."

"The implants make it easy to do that, but it doesn't mean I know what you've been up to."

"I'm on a safari for polar bears."

"In Central Park? You realize that isn't their natural habitat."

"You wanna come meet me at the Zoo? Can you get away for a little while?"

"Yeah," his brother said eagerly. "Should I be looking for polar bears too?"

"Good luck finding one. I'll stay put anyway."

"All right. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes."

Michelangelo hung up the phone with a wince. _I was a jerk to him, and he still can't wait to find me. That's Donny for ya. He never likes being mad at anyone. He's a great brother, even when he's dealing with a bunch of things at once._

He heaved another giant sigh as he put his phone away, and started waiting for Donatello to show up.

* * *

The orange-masked turtle's senses were keenly aware of every sound around him, so he was disappointed with himself when something brushing his shell made him jump a mile. He narrowed his eyes at Donatello's shadowed grin. "You did that on purpose!"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I'd think you would be paying more attention, hanging out in the open like this."

"I _was_ paying attention."

"Meanwhile, I almost got caught by a couple of guards when I came over the wall. I had extra incentive to be careful."

Mike snickered. "You nearly got busted by a couple of rent-a-cops?"

"Yeah, and I about sent _your _shell into orbit a minute ago, so I'd say we're even."

"It sounds like we could both use some more training exercises. Maybe sneaking into the Zoo should become a regular thing – at least until I can see some dang animals."

Don's smile became sympathetic. "So what are you really doing here?"

Mike shrugged and then crossed his arms. "It was something to do."

"Anything was better than coming home?"

"I didn't say that, Donny, and I don't feel that way either. It's just…"

"It's what, Mikey? Do you want to tell me about what happened?"

"I'm sorry I was mean to you and Leo. I wasn't mad at you guys."

"I'm glad to hear it. Would you like to tell me what happened?" he repeated.

"No," Mike said faintly. "It doesn't matter."

"If something upsets you that much, it matters, Bro."

He was quiet for a few seconds. "Yeah, it matters, but talking about it won't help."

"How do you know if you don't try?"

"Because I _do_," he insisted. "Words are great and all, but they don't solve everything. They can't fix this."

"I know this has to do with Splinter," Don said bluntly. "You're not the only one who's afraid. Why do you think you have to hide it?"

"I don't _care_ if anyone knows I'm scared," Mike said flatly.

"Then tell me. Why don't you want to talk about this? Why did you run away from me? You _never_ do that."

Mike grimaced. "No, and I'm sorry. It's not your fault, or the docs fault that you guys don't know everything."

"_Please_ tell me what you're referring to."

The orange-masked turtle swallowed as he felt his throat constricting. "He thinks he's dying."

"You're talking about Sensei? He said that to you?"

"He didn't have to _say_ it. It's like Master Splinter has already accepted it, Donny. Why would he give up this way?"

His brother seemed to be searching for words. "I didn't…I mean…Mike, none of us have mentioned the possibility that he's dying, not to each other _or_ him. What makes you think he's given up?"

Michelangelo looked away, even though he couldn't see his brother's face well. "I get feelings about people sometimes, Donny. It's not like I try to – it just happens, like it did today. I'm telling you, he thinks he's dying. Why does he believe that?"

"Mike, I don't know. Maybe Sensei is discouraged or tired. Maybe he's overwhelmed because of everything going on. But no matter how he feels, or you feel, it doesn't mean there's no hope left, okay?"

"You haven't asked yourself if he could be dying?"

Donatello didn't answer him, and Mike shook his head.

"See? This is why I didn't wanna talk about it. There's nothing anyone can say to make this better."

"Should we all give up then?" Don asked quietly. "Should we stop trying to help Sensei because he may have lost some hope?"

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it!"

"You're right – I was only clarifying my point. When a member of this family is feeling weak, they should be able to rely on the rest of us to help hold them up. I know you'd do anything to help Master Splinter."

"But I _can't_ help him."

"You help him and other people a lot more than you think. Your spirit alone can move mountains, and make someone smile when it should have been impossible. I'm not suggesting that you fake emotion you're not feeling, or that you aren't allowed to get discouraged too. But we're a family, and whatever happens, we're in this together. So if you're upset, mad, depressed, you don't have to hide it."

"How can I help Sensei when I feel like this? I could barely look him in the eye this morning. I'm not ready for this, Donny. I'm not ready to lose him! It's too _soon_." Michelangelo's voice cracked helplessly.

Donatello extended an arm around his back, and he leaned hard against his shoulder, trying to muffle his tears.

"I'm not any more ready than you are," his brother said finally.

"You're so calm about all of this."

"Acting calm doesn't mean I _feel _calm."

"What's gonna happen next, Donny?"

"The docs and I will keep giving Sensei respiratory support, and we're going to begin delving deeper too."

"Like how?"

"We're going to take tissue samples from Sensei's lungs to study. There may be physical clues that can help us determine what's wrong with him."

"And if you find something?"

"Then we'll work toward solving the problem. None of us are even close to calling off the effort, Mike."

"Is it going to hurt him?"

"A biopsy? No. He might not even need to be asleep, depending on which method we decide to go with."

Mike sat up straighter on the curb. "Can you promise me that you won't try to protect the rest of us, Donny? We're all big kids. We deserve the truth."

"We haven't kept anything from you so far, Mikey, and we're not going to start. The only one I've left in the dark mostly is Jen…and that's just because we're separated this way. She needs this time with her parents."

"I think she'd appreciate hearing the truth about Splinter, Bro."

"_I_ don't even know the full truth yet. Maybe when the results come back…" Donatello suddenly gasped. "Mikey, look!"

Michelangelo followed his brother's gaze to the enclosure across from them, where a white mass was lumbering through the darkness across the habitat. He jerked to his feet and got closer to the bars while the polar bear loped around the edge of the pool.

"He's _huge_." Mike whistled. "Wouldn't want to meet one in real life, not even if I had a Coke."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everybody knows about the Coca-Cola Polar bears. They look so cuddly."

The purple-masked turtle rolled his eyes. "It's a good thing the bear is on _that_ side of the bars. It's not a pet, Mikey."

Mike grinned at him. "It'd be cool to have one though, wouldn't it?"

"A polar bear?"

"A pet. Why couldn't we?"

Donatello shrugged. "You'd probably be taking care of it on your own. I've got enough on my plate, Leo might think it was a waste of resources, and Raph doesn't mesh with animals."

"I bet Raphy could learn to like _something_."

Don shook his head. "That'll be the day, Mike."


	24. Details

_The smell was the first thing to capture him. The tangible scent of gasoline made anxiety rise in his gut, even though he couldn't find a reason for it. The longer the turtle was immersed in the smell, he recognized that it was _changing , _taking on a sulfurous_ aspect_ that made it hard to breathe._

_The urge to run existed, but his feet may as well have been nailed to the ground. A strange lack of energy consumed his limbs, making it impossible to shift from his position. He was standing in an alleyway that appeared to be shrinking before his eyes. The closeness of the opposite walls gave him the feeling having less oxygen, in addition to the air that was darkening. The murky clouds entangled him, forcing him to cough and gag on their putrid scent._

_Persistence succeeded in allowing him to bend his knees, freeing legs which felt frozen stiff. The movement did the turtle little good. He collapsed to the ground and his hands and knees stung as though he'd fallen upon razor blades. The turtle refused to look down, half afraid of the blood he might see._

_Raphael searched for cleaner air beneath the hovering mass, but the fog was spreading too quickly. The alley was such a small area. He could get out if he tried; he was absolutely sure of it. Crawling a couple of feet left him heaving with exertion and lying flat on his plastron. He couldn't understand why he was so exhausted or why adrenaline wasn't kicking in. _I'll be darned if I'm gonna lie here and suffocate.

_The turtle slowly worked his way up on his elbows, creeping one pace at a time. The intensity of the growing clouds made him want to go faster, but his body wouldn't obey the command. When brightness dazzled his eyes in the darkness, he got excited for a moment, hopeful that he was near the end of the hateful smoke. It took a moment for the orange glow to register in his mind, and make him feel even sicker to his stomach. _Fire. Fire! I have to move!

_Raphael looked over his shoulder, assuming he would have to go back the short distance he'd already managed to cover. To his dismay, he saw flames flickering in that direction too, cutting off any chance of getting away. _Trapped! I'm surrounded!

_The turtle felt around through the smoke desperately, hesitating when his hand found something solid. _Is that a wall? Maybe there's a door around here…another way out? _He leaned against the rough surface he'd identified as brick, relying on its support as he climbed shakily to his feet. Raphael took one deliberate step at a time, fully aware of the heat bearing down harder on his skin. _Have to get out, have to—

_The turtle stumbled, almost falling as panic made him go faster than he could handle. He accidentally sucked in the acrid smoke and choked severely. His lungs were on fire. It felt like flames were already consuming him. Raphael discovered that he was lying on the ground again, and the glare of the fire was nearing. _Not time to sleep.

_He raised his head off the pavement, and a gasp caught in his throat when he saw something he hadn't expected. Some of the darkness had taken shape, and he could just see the outline of a figure crouching over him. Raphael tried to roll out of the way, but a foot crashing on top of his shell, pinning him. It felt like a five-hundred pound boulder, and no amount of determination could move it. Long fingernails grasped his wrists, and the contact burned his hands._

_Raphael groaned in pain, writhing to escape the faceless stranger. His skin flickered with small flames, and a scream erupted from his throat as he watched the fire spread. The figure hurled him onto his shell, and the turtle's eyes widened as the shadowy figure exploded in a fireball of fury that threatened to incinerate him next._

* * *

Raphael jolted with sudden violence, fighting to catch his breath. The intensity of his scream left his already raw throat in searing pain, which in turn left him in short supply of the oxygen he craved.

"It's okay_,_ Raph."

The voice startled him further, and made the turtle jerk his head around far too quickly.

"_Easy_," the dark-haired doctor chided. "Do you need the Oxi for a bit?"

Raphael didn't feel capable of words yet, so he simply nodded.

"All right – just relax." Marcus helped tilt his head slightly and adjusted the mask over his face. "You're in a safe place. The air is coming. Breathe in as deeply as you can."

It took a couple of minutes for his heart to stop racing and his lungs to accept a regular pattern. Raphael gazed up into his friend's dark eyes as he searched for meaning behind the troubling dream. _It didn't go that far…_he remembered. _There weren't any real flames. Strange to think I can hardly recall what happened that night. Someone wanted to kill me…_tried _to kill me. And I was alone, all alone. How did I get back here to begin with?_

His conscious mind remembered seeing Donny, his Sensei, and the docs a few times, but the urge to ask what had happened hadn't existed before now. _Been too busy freezing and then burning my shell off. That and hacking up everything I ever ate. _Raphael grimaced distastefully at the memory of how badly throwing up had hurt.

At least his head wasn't pounding as hard now, but he still felt unbearably warm under the thin blanket that covered his plastron.

"You feeling any better?" Marcus asked.

"No," he rasped. "Yeah. Maybe."

The man chuckled. "I'd understand if you were confused."

"It's _hot_."

"I'll grab a couple fresh compresses."

"Marc, wait." He struggled for volume. "What…happened?"

"You were dreaming."

"No. Before."

"Before you were dreaming?"

The turtle closed his eyes briefly in exasperation. "How did I get _here_? Who found me?"

"Oh. I figured that question would come up eventually." Marcus grabbed a chair and wheeled it over to him. "Do you remember the first night you got sick? You came to see me."

Raphael shut his eyes once more as a vision of being close to passing out on his motorcycle flashed before his mind. "Yeah. I think so."

"You didn't want me to take you home, but I was worried about you. When you left, I followed you from a distance."

"You…followed me?" A cough seized his chest, leaving him breathless for a couple of seconds.

"You should be resting. This really could wait."

"Tell it," he commanded weakly.

Marcus rubbed the back of his head self-consciously. "I didn't see everything. You got sidetracked by some bad men. They were trying to set a building on fire."

Raphael's brow creased. _Gasoline. There was a lot of it. There were only a couple of guys…one was big._

"I think you got overpowered by them, because you were sick," Marcus finished hastily. "I'm sure they wouldn't have beaten you otherwise. They were going to hurt you."

"You called my brothers?" His voice was softer, but he was determined to be heard.

"I did, but they were a little too far away. I sort of took matters into my own hands."

"Y…ya did what?"

"I didn't do much, except cram my Avalanche into the alley. It was enough to scare the cowards off."

The turtle instantly raised his head a couple of inches. "You put y'self in _danger_?"

"I didn't have a choice," the man said stoically. "Don't you dare try to lecture me. You hardly have a voice as it is."

"You sh-shouldn't have done that," he forced the words out.

"I _had_ to," Marc reinforced. "And if you make me, I'll do it again."

"No, you won't."

"You'll have a pretty hard time stopping me if _you're_ the one in trouble."

"Marc…"

"Do you even remember what they tried to do with you?"

The turtle swallowed, hesitant to talk about the few things he _did_ remember. "It's like...fragments, and I'm not sure what's real. But what if they'd killed _you_, Marc?"

"They didn't," the man said dismissively. "You might try not putting _yourself_ at unnecessary risk. For instance, when you're so sick that you can barely ride your bike, you could let me drive you home without being a stubborn pain in my butt."

Raphael cracked a small smile. "But that's what I do best."

"True, but the rest of us would like to make sure you get to _keep_ doing it."

He broke eye contact with Marcus sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

The doctor exhaled and squeezed his arm. "We like having you around, that's all I'm saying. Are you comfortable with the Oxi, or are you ready for it to come off? It wouldn't hurt you to try drinking some more. It'd be nice to get you off the IV before Halloween."

"Ha," Raph said humorlessly. "Can we try that in a little while? I kind of like the mask where it is."

Marcus gave him a probing look. "Yeah. You can keep it. Hang on for a minute."

The man disappeared from the turtle's line of vision, and was carrying newly soaked rags when he returned.

"Lay your head back down and don't try moving much," Marc told him.

Raphael sighed as the herbal fragrance of the fresh compress washed over him. "Smells better than gasoline," he murmured.

Marcus nodded sympathetically. "That smell will go away, eventually."

"Am I still flammable?"

He laughed. "No, but I'll resist the urge to light up around you, just in case."

"I'm not sure if that's really funny."

"You're alive, and you're going to kick this flu. Giving you a hard time doesn't feel _too_ premature."

"Gee, thanks, Marc."

"Anytime, Raph."


	25. Listen

"Leo? This is Earth calling, Leonardo; do you copy?"

The blue-masked turtle blinked, looking away from the damp spot on the wall at which he'd been unconsciously staring. He glanced at his youngest brother apologetically. "You were saying something?"

"Yeah. Are you gonna eat that, or were you saving the awesome sandwich for _me_?"

Leo protectively gripped the plate he'd been ignoring. "Back off, Bro. It's not _my_ fault that you ate yours in two bites."

April was kind enough to bring them take-out when she'd dropped by that afternoon, which included the best Italian hoagies on the East Side.

"And yet, you're letting yours sit there. I think you're only doing this to torture me." The orange-masked turtle pretended to pout.

"That's the number one priority on my to-do list," Leo murmured.

Mike folded his arms with a serious expression. "You okay? You didn't eat much for lunch, and you don't seem all that interested now either."

The oldest turtle inhaled sharply. _It's never a good sign when your little brother has to start keeping tabs on you. _"Yeah, Mikey, I'm all right. I'm feeling a bit distracted is all." He relaxed his posture and picked up half the sandwich to take his first bite in twenty minutes.

"You can take a break from thinking every now and then if you want," Mike offered. "It's not hard. I've been training Donny in the concept, so it wouldn't be difficult to fit you in too."

Leonardo smiled fondly at his brother. "I _know_ I think too much."

Mike nodded. "It's dangerous for your health. Why do you think I play so many video games?"

"To avoid….thinking?"

Michelangelo chuckled. "You say that like it's a bad thing. I can totally tutor you, Bro. I've got the time."

The blue-masked turtle rolled his eyes, but couldn't resist grinning. "Perfect. You tutor me in relaxing, and I'll tutor _you_ in the finer art of showing up on time for practice."

Mike stretched his arms behind his head lazily. "Dude, those rules are so rigid. We've been doing stuff at our own pace for a _while_ now."

Leonardo raised his eye-ridges for dramatic effect. "Not when you're working out with _me_."

"I'll try to keep that in mind, O fearless one."

"Do I detect a note of sarcasm?"

"From _me_, Leo?" Mike executed one of his world-famous Cheshire smiles.

"Want me to set it for an hour earlier?" he threatened.

"No," the smaller turtle squeaked meekly.

"Then you'll be prompt on Wednesday morning, won't you?"

"Yes, fearless one."

"And knock that off."

"Your word is mine to obey!"

"Okay, Mike…"

The door to the lab opened, and Leonardo automatically glanced over. It had been a little over a week since Raphael became ill, and Luke hadn't left the den since. With the improvement in his brother's condition, Leo was hoping the man could return to his apartment that night.

"How's he doing?" Leo asked.

"Raph's okay," Luke replied. "It's been almost 48 hours since his last fever broke, so I'm lifting the ban."

Leonardo sat up at once. "Then we can see him?"

"Yes. You're free to sit with him, and talk if he's up to it. Raph isn't completely out of the woods yet, but I think the worst is behind us. It will probably be a few more days before he's on his feet."

Leo nodded eagerly. "What are _you_ going to do? Do you feel like sleeping in your own bed tonight?"

"Leo, I'm comfortable in the lounge. If you want to kick me out, just say so."

The blue-masked turtle was abashed by what the man _thought _he was inferring. "What? _No_, Doc, that isn't it at all. I was only thinking that your apartment is a nicer place to crash than our den."

"It's empty," Luke said wistfully. "I might sleep there, but I _live_ here, if you know what I mean."

Mike smiled. "We know, Doc, and no one's trying to make you leave. But we don't wanna take advantage of you either."

The man snorted. "Do we really need to have this conversation?" He glanced down at Leo's sandwich longingly. "Are there any more of those?"

Leo laughed. "There's one in the fridge that literally has your name on it, Doc. If you'd like to take a load off and eat, I'd be _more_ than happy to sit with Raph for a while."

"I'm not sure how awake he'll be, but have at it, Leo. You _are_ planning to eat at some point though, right?"

"Shell, how many mothers does a turtle need?" he scoffed. "I'll wrap it up for later."

"Don't be surprised if you can't find it!" Mike chortled.

"If my sandwich disappears, you can count on practice _lasting_ an extra hour."

"I'll guard it with my life!"

Leonardo punched the orange-masked turtle's shoulder as he rose. "Just keep away from it, and you'll be perfectly safe."

* * *

Leo took the time to steep a cup of tea before going into the lab. The room was darker than usual, clearly designed with his brother's comfort in mind. Raphael's face still looked bare without his mask, but he seemed to be resting easily.

The blue-masked turtle selected a desk chair and scooted it closer to watch over his brother. _We got really lucky this time. If Marc hadn't decided to follow him…well, I'd rather not think about it any more. _He cradled his tea-cup in both hands and closed his eyes with a sigh. _I'm grateful things worked out, but I don't want to see it cut that close again._

He slowly drained his tea over the course of an hour. Raphael's breathing had only been interrupted by an occasional murmur or a cough that wasn't bad enough to wake him up completely. Leo felt himself truly relaxing, for the first time in days. _Raph is going to be okay, and things will move forward with Sensei soon. The docs know what they're doing._

A particularly deep cough rumbled through his brother's chest, and Raphael's body stiffened.

Leo tentatively brushed Raphael's shoulder. "You okay,Bro?"

Amber eyes took a moment to orient on him. "Fearless? What r' you doing?"

"Doc lifted the ban, so I thought I'd pay you a visit."

"I'm great company, huh?"

He smiled. "You'll get there. How are you feeling?"

"Like…someone hit me with a truck, and then backed up to run over me again."

Leo grimaced. "Sounds like fun."

"You ought to try it, Leo." Raphael slowly shifted, changing positions to face him.

"Been worried about you."

Raphael huffed softly. "That's nothing new."

"No, but you have to admit that I had a pretty good reason to this time."

"I know I screwed up, Leo," he said quietly.

"That's not what I'm trying to say, Raph. I'm just happy you're _here_."

His brother was silent for a couple of seconds, and his gaze felt less focused. "I don't always do it on purpose."

"Do what?"

"Piss you off. Not all the time."

Leonardo hesitated as he considered the question he really wanted to ask. "Raph…why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

"I dunno."

"That's not an answer."

"What do you want me to say? I screwed up. I almost got killed. What else is there?"

"There are a lot of things I'd like to know, Raph."

"I knew saying I was wrong wouldn't be enough for you."

"Now hold on—"

"Not everyone is as perfect as _you,_ Leo."

"_Stop!_" the blue-masked turtle proclaimed louder than he meant to. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice. "We both do this, and it isn't fair."

"Do what? Fight?"

"Assume things. You've got no idea what's going through my mind tonight, or for the last few days. You don't know what it was like to find out you were _that_ sick, and I drove you out the door."

Raphael said nothing for close to a minute. "You been blaming yourself then?"

"Why couldn't you _tell_ me? Am I really that bad, Raph?"

Raphael stared at him uncertainly before replying. "No, it's not…I didn't _know_ it was this bad, Fearless, okay? And I didn't want you to worry for nothing. That's why I didn't tell you."

Leonardo looked at the floor, working up to what he needed to say. "Raph, something _has_ to give. I can't continue living like this with you, and I can see you don't enjoy it much either. We need to come to some sort of agreement that we'll _both_ try to ease up on each other.

"I know that I tend to jump to conclusions and I get on your shell for things when I don't need to. But I'm willing to back off and start listening more, if you can be a little more honest with me. I won't try to keep tabs on your 24/7…and I _don't_ think you're incapable of taking care of yourself."

"Even now?"

Leo shook his head. "This had better not happen again, Bro. I'm not kidding. You can't ever go into a fight under those conditions without asking for help. Will you agree to that?"

Raphael nodded. "It was stupid."

Leo leaned forward in his chair, grasping his brother's arm suddenly. "It was too _close_. Raph, we need you. This family needs you, and _I _need you. We're a team, and that means every part is important. I'm not perfect, and I don't have everything it takes to do this by myself. Believe it or not, I'm well aware of my failings."

"A little _too_ aware sometimes," Raph muttered. "I haven't been helping either. I'm sorry, Leo. We can both try harder, can't we?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yes, whatever it takes. This family is worth the work it requires to maintain. When it's all said and done…it's the only reliable thing we have."

Raphael breathed in and out slowly. "We'll have to work on it then."

"I want you to know that I won't ever give up on you, Raph."

"You always were stubborn, Leo."

"Well, it takes one to know one."

His brother cracked a half smile. "I think we gotta schedule some fights to keep things interesting."

"I doubt we'll need to schedule them, Raph."

Raphael chuckled softly. "Nah. Probably not."


	26. Strengthen

(Nine Days Later)

The red-masked turtle's forehead creased with concentration as he correctly lined up the cylinder heads on top of the new head gasket for the engine of the Battleshell. He bent lower to double-check their alignment before even _touching_ his torque wrench.

Raphael's gaze was drawn to Donatello suddenly, and a smirk emerged. His purple-masked brother was putting the finishing touches on a top coat of polish over the right side of the Avalanche, using extremely precise strokes. _Bet Marc will be really happy to get his car back. Donny did a great job on the body work. You'd never know the thing had a run-in with a dumpster._

He returned his attention to his own task, and began tightening down the bolts on the cylinder heads. There was no doubt that his brother could have handled the repairs for the Battleshell too, but Donatello had taken pity on him. _This is one of the only "technical" things that Don and I can do together. _It also provided Raphael with motivation to work as cleanly as possible, to make certain that his brother was never tempted to hog all the mechanical chores for himself.

Raphael inspected the new parts he'd installed carefully to make sure that the head gasket was properly sealing the cylinders. Satisfied with his work, he fished his car keys off his belt. "I got the gasket in," he announced. "You wanna have a look before I start 'er up, Donny?"

Don glanced over his shoulder. "You know what you're doing. If everything looks aligned, then give it a go."

The red-masked turtle climbed behind the wheel of the van, and started the car with anticipation. His grin widened when the Battleshell came to life with a perfectly normal roar. The turtle chuckled as he stuck his head out the open door. "You hear that, Donny? It's a beautiful sound."

"That it is. Nice work."

The engine had been no small repair, but the blown head gasket and cracked engine block were exactly the type of stimulation that Raphael was craving after being in bed for over two weeks. He pulled the key out of the ignition and crossed over to look at Don's paint job up close.

"I don't know how you do the detail work. You've got more patience than me, bro."

"That's a given," his brother replied without looking up. "But I _had_ to do it slowly. It's pretty easy to mess up with our fingers."

Raphael snorted. "Who knows how we do _anything_ with these hands?"

That earned him a grin from Donny. "The paint has had a week to cure. Think it will pass inspection, Raph?"

"Oh, yeah. Marc's ready to get his baby back."

The purple-masked turtle took a step backwards. "I'm sure he is. It'll be nice to get the Battleshell back on the road too."

Raphael rolled his eyes. "Eh, she probably could have been back a month ago if you'd gone digging for treasure like you used to."

Don shook his head. "It's easier to replace broken things with quality parts than it is to get another vehicle entirely, Raph. I want to get the best possible life out of the Battleshell. As long as I have money to put into it, you can bet I'm going to."

"It's not a bad plan, Donny. It just takes longer." Raphael rubbed his hands together when another thought occurred to him. "It's been a while since we tested the weapons system ya know."

Donatello gave him a wary look. "I understand your enthusiasm, but I still don't want you to fire a missile just to see what happens."

"Don't we need to check if they'll go off at least?"

Donny sighed. "I _did_ a missile test the last time we left—"

"Yeah, _you_ did. When do I get a turn?"

"Have you read the manual yet?"

"It's over 200 pages. You want me to read 200 freaking pages so I can shoot _one_ missile?"

"We've been through this, Raph. They're not toys, no matter how exciting it sounds. If you read the manual, I'll see about setting up another test."

"You gotta go and ruin it for me."

"Knowledge is power."

"I'm more interested in _fire_ power."

The younger turtle shook his head once more. "You _must_ be feeling better."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I can think of a few reasons."

"If Doc signed off on me, y'know you ain't got nothing to worry about, Don."

"He may have been tired of listening to you complain."

"Do I force him to hang out in the lab at all hours? It's like he has nothing better to do than tie one of us down."

"Yeah," Don said distractedly.

The far-away look in his eyes and the one word reply let Raphael know that his brother was thinking about something else, and he also figured he knew what it was. "You doing okay?"

"Sure," he replied swiftly. "Things are moving along."

"When's the test? Has Doc said?"

"Sometime tomorrow afternoon. Marc wants to be there too, so we'll wait until he can come down."

"It's no big deal right? Not like surgery."

"No, it's not a serious procedure."

"Then what happens?"

Donny shrugged. "We'll analyze the information we have and go from there."

"You seem nervous. Are you afraid of what you guys are gonna find?"

"It's just the unknown at this point, Raph. There are a lot of possibilities for what could be causing his breathing issues. I'm hoping we get to rule out a few things."

The red-masked turtle nodded. "Are you at a good stopping point with the Avalanche?"

"I'll do one last coat of wax tomorrow morning, and be ready to hand the keys back to Marcus."

"You wanna get something to eat then? Because I seriously worked up a massive appetite."

Don smiled. "You never needed much work for that. Thanks for your help with the Battleshell."

Raphael's arm fell across his brother's shell. "Now if only I can you back in the dojo with me."

Donatello gave him a leery glance. "One thing at a time, Raph."

* * *

Raphael eyed the sink full of dishes with dread. Mike had fixed a fantastic dinner, but he'd also used almost every pot and pan they owned in the process. He had a bad feeling that he was going to be set up with cleaning duty, and hesitated from even leaving the table. His blue-masked brother was seated across from him, seemingly biding his time too.

_Well, can't avoid it forever._

The red-masked turtle rose with a stretch, heading to the sink with his dishes. He was surprised when Leonardo instantly followed him. "I know it's gotta be my turn," he grumbled.

"Don't worry about it."

"Huh?"

"I'll handle it. Why don't you go sit with Sensei while he's still awake?"

Raphael glanced at the mountain of dishes. "There's a lot here, Bro. I don't have to abandon you completely."

Leo shook his head. "Splinter has been retiring earlier, Raph. As much as he'd like to stay up, he doesn't have the energy. Go ahead and see him while he's still conscious enough to know you're there."

"Um…okay. Thanks."

Raphael expected to find the rat in the living area, but there was no sign of his Master. _He musta already gone to bed after all. _The turtle jogged across the room to the hallway and rapped a fist on Splinter's door.

"Come in," Splinter called in return.

"Hey, Sensei." Raphael entered the room to the sight of his father stretching to reach a blanket that was folded up on the end of his bed.

"Raphael." Splinter grunted through the greeting while he tried to get a hand on the quilt.

The red-masked turtle immediately retrieved it for him. "You cold, Father?"

"Yes. It seems a bit chillier down here than normal."

Raphael said nothing while he spread the blanket over the rat and tucked it in slightly on the sides.

"Thank you, my son."

"Your welcome. Do you want to get some sleep? You don't have to talk to me or nothing."

"No. Tell me about your first day of freedom," he urged.

"Uh…I was just helping Donny. The Battleshell hasn't been running for a while, but she's all fixed up now."

"And Dr. Sloan's car?"

"Donny's putting the last touches on it. He said he'd hand it over to Marcus tomorrow."

"Good. Everything can return to normal."

Raphael couldn't think of a suitable response. This was a "normal" that he didn't want to accept. "You must be glad they're finally getting the biopsy out of the way, huh?"

"There seems to be no choice for me. Our medical 'staff' would not have given up until I agreed."

"It's supposed to help you, isn't it?"

"That is their intention. I simply worry of how many other tests they may require of me." The rat scowled.

Raphael looked away briefly. "I know it ain't fun, Sensei, but you gotta do it. Whatever they say, don't fight 'em on it, okay? They're smart, and they won't put you through something if they don't think you need it."

Splinter's face softened. "Yes, you are right. But it is not enjoyable being a patient for an extended period of time, as you well know."

The turtle grinned. "Nope. But you gotta put up with it. It's for your own good."

Splinter stretched toward him, and Raphael leaned closer so that his father could reach his arm easier. "Your _wellbeing_ will do me good, Raphael. You gave me much reason to fear."

The red-masked turtle struggled to hold his onyx gaze. "I know, Sensei, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get that far off track. I should have called for help."

"Or accepted it from Dr. Sloan to begin with," Splinter said gently. "My son…sometimes you behave as though you are a solitary unit. But what you do and what happens to you affects us all."

Raphael nodded heavily. "I get it. I've sort of been running for a while here, Sensei, and making things tough on Leo." He paused for a long moment. "I don't know how to handle you bein' sick like this. It's new territory. Leo's watching out for us more…and it's an adjustment. I'll get there. I don't wanna be the one weak link dragging the team down."

Splinter's grip tightened. "You will never be a 'weak link', unless you choose to rely only upon yourself."

"I won't, Master. I'll do better – I promise."

"I know you will," he said confidently. "That is part of the reason I feel little fear for my condition. Your heart, your brothers' hearts are in the right place, and you function well as a unit. All that remains is to _strengthen_ what is already in place. Given the passage of time and the difficulties of life, any relationship can suffer. Your job is to fiercely guard the kinship with your brothers. And once you set your mind to something, Raphael, you will never give up."

Raphael shook his head. "No, Sensei. We're gonna stand together. There's no other option for us."

"None that you will choose." Splinter's fingers loosened their grip, and Raphael laid the rat's arm down on the bed.

"Why dontcha go on to sleep, Master? I'll stay with you a bit longer if you want."

"I love you, _musuko_." (son)

"I love you too, _Otousan_." (father)

The red-masked turtle squeezed Splinter's hand, letting go much sooner than he wanted to. "Sleep well."


	27. Epic Fail

When Leonardo returned to the kitchen after taking Splinter his breakfast, he was surprised to find his red-masked brother staring at a cardboard box that was resting on the kitchen table. He dropped off a bowl in the sink and filled it up with water to soak, then looked over his shoulder again.

"Hey, Raph? What are you doing?"

His brother shot him a grin. "I think I finally scored Mike's secret stash of Sugar Bombs."

"This would be the first _I've_ heard of it."

"He wouldn't tell you, Leo. Probably afraid you'd confiscate 'em."

"I think one box at a time should be enough to satisfy _anyone_. What does he need a 'stash' for?"

"Because he's Mikey. Anyway, I saw him stuffing a cereal box back in here last night, and I watched to see where he hid it."

"What are you planning on doing with it?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'll hide it somewhere else to screw with his head."

"That's one option."

"…but I was thinking I might help solve his hoarding problem by relieving some of the cereal first. How 'bout it, Leo? You want in on this action?"

The blue-masked turtle made a face. "A few sweets every now and then is one thing, but that cereal is nothing but straight sugar."

"That's what makes it so great. You gotta live dangerously sometimes, Bro."

Leo smiled tolerantly. "Why the hold up then? Why aren't you already feasting on your prize?"

"I'm working up to it. Mike wrote me a love note! You wanna see?"

Leonardo's brow creased as he leaned down to read the lettering on the box. "Property of Michelangelo, grand champion of the universe." He paused to roll his eyes. "No touching: Raphael, this means you."

"He expected me to find it, Leo. But he didn't say _you_ couldn't open it. It would be like nothing ever happened."

"Ah, I see. You want me to do your dirty work for you."

"Well, you're supposed to police stuff like this, aren't you?"

"Mike isn't a kid. If he wants to eat junk food for breakfast, I won't stop him; not unless it starts to interfere with his performance."

"Why let it go that far to begin with? Come on, Leo, live a little! Open the box."

The older turtle sat down in the chair beside him, and stretched to reach the parcel. "I'll make you a deal. I'll open the box, but you can't take _all_ his cereal."

"Can I hide it somewhere else?"

"By all means."

"Cool. Cut it open." Raphael offered him a small knife.

Leonardo was tempted to roll his eyes again. _All this fuss over sugary cereal. Sometimes they still act more like they're teenage boys._ He freed both edges of the box, and cut the strip down the middle. A surprising pop made him jerk in the chair, and he cried out as the contents of the package exploded in his face. The blue-masked turtle shoved away from the table rapidly, and fiercely rubbed the foamy substance out of his eyes.

Leo heard his brother curse and immediately threw him a menacing look. "If you set me up—"

"No!" Raphael insisted. "Mike tried to set _me_ up!"

Leonardo groaned as he snatched the paper towels off the counter. "Then you didn't know that would happen?"

"If I _knew_, do you think I woulda sat that close to you?"

Upon closer inspection, he realized that his red-masked brother _had_ been spattered by the exploding shaving cream too, even if he hadn't taken as bad of a hit.

"I had nothing to do with it, Leo, I swear!"

"Okay. I believe you." Leonardo sighed while he headed for the sink. "How's that for a 'good morning?' I should drag his shell out of bed right this minute to come clean up."

"Yeah, you could do that. Or we _could_ just get him back. Mike has it coming to him, and you know it, Fearless."

"The best laid plan doesn't usually involve an immediate counter-strike."

Raphael snorted. "You always wanna bide your time. Instant gratification can be fun, Leo! You never even dealt with him for throwing that mud ball at you."

"That was _your_ fault, just like the stupid box!"

"Bro, Mikey targets me all the _time_ and you happened to be in the line of fire today. Let's do something about it. Let's get him!"

The blue-masked turtle considered it for a moment longer, and then—"All right, I'm in. But you're going to have to let me drive."

"Tell me where we're going first."

"I'm thinking we could take a stroll over to the freezer. It was a bit full last time I checked…maybe we could lighten it up a little."

"You're not talking about trying to cook are you? 'cause burning down the kitchen isn't the revenge I had in mind."

Leonardo's hand flashed, swatting the back of Raphael's head. "No, no cooking, but it would require some heat. I should make sure we have enough milk."

"What do you want milk for?"

"It's part of the master plan."

"I thought we were winging this!"

"Go with me, Raph." Leo strode to the freezer, and grinned when he saw the two large plastic-handled tubs he'd been hoping for. "They haven't even been opened. We can make this work."

Raphael snickered. "It's almost sad to waste it."

"Sacrifices must be made. Can you trust me to melt this down some?"

"Then what do I get to do?"

Leo gave him a smug look. "We need toppings, don't we? Mike isn't the only one in this family who can set a trap."

"I'm liking this side of you, Leo. It's kinda exciting."

"We have to _hurry_," he urged. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Leonardo eyed the two buckets that had been set over the kitchen door and nodded. "It should work."

"It _should_?" his brother repeated.

"Nothing is guaranteed when you pull something together this fast. That's why I prefer 'biding my time.'"

"You may be hooked on getting him back faster when we're done here."

Leo cast a glance at Raphael's prepared missiles on the counter. "Those things are huge."

"So call him, Leo, and we can have some satisfaction before the ice cream gets _too_ thin."

The blue-masked turtle withdrew his phone. "That would defeat the purpose. I'll call him." Leo hit the speed-dial and waited eagerly.

"Hello?" Mike sounded a little groggy.

"Michelangelo, get up," he snapped. "Your box just blew up on me. Come down here and take care of it."

The orange-masked turtle chuckled. "I didn't figure _you'd_ be the cat that curiosity killed."

"Get _down_ here."

"In a minute, Bro."

Leonardo closed his phone. "He bought it."

"Good. Now we wait." Raphael rubbed his hands together.

Leo joined him by the counter, where they would remain out of harm's way until after the trap had gone off. Roughly 90 seconds past before the door stirred, and Leonardo instantly stiffened. A figure had just enough time to cross under the doorframe for the blue-masked turtle to realize that it w_asn't_ Mike.

"Doc, _wait!_" he cried uselessly, as half the trap was sprung.

Luke's gasp was the only response Leo received as semi-melted strawberry ice cream cascaded over him. The man tried lunge out of the way and ended up sliding instead. Leonardo cringed as his feet shot out from underneath him and Luke went down with a mighty _crash_.

Before Leo could move the door swung open wider, and his eyes widened upon seeing his purple-masked brother. "Don, STOP!"

The worthless words were uttered too late to warn his brother about the second half of the trap. The chocolate version hit Donatello like a tidal wave, but it didn't slow him down much. Don skidded so that he ran into the table, but managed to keep his balance.

"Doc! Are you all right?" Donny demanded.

_That_ was when Leo realized that Luke's left leg was curled up underneath him, and his heart skipped a beat. The purple-masked turtle bent down to help him roll over and Leonardo saw the man grimace.

"_Ow_, ow…" Luke hissed, his limb frozen in what appeared to be an unnatural angle.

"You're hurt – don't try to move, Doc." Don angrily swiped the back of his hand across his forehead catching the ice cream threatening his eyes.

Luke murmured something under his breath that Leonardo couldn't hear, and the blue-masked turtle finally broke out of shock.

"Doc, I'm sorry! It wasn't supposed to be _you _guys!"

"Well, it _was_," the man retorted with a soft groan. He waved off Donatello from trying to help him. "You can't do anything in that state. Grab a towel and clean up some."

Don rose from his knees, shooting Leonardo a dirty look.

"We're sorry!" Leo insisted, looking back to find Raphael hovering behind him. "Let _us_ help."

"You'd better," Luke said tightly. "Just…get me off this floor so we can figure out how bad it is."

"To the lab?" Raphael suggested guiltily.

"No, not yet. Let me sit for a minute."

Donny yanked out one of the chairs and turned it around for them, then grabbed an old towel off the table for himself.

"Give me your arm, Doc," Leo told him. "Maybe we should do this together, Raph."

Luke accepted their assistance in rising, and allowed the turtles to bear his weight over to the table. The man moaned softly as he tried to straighten his leg.

"Don't do that, Doc," Leo warned him. He knelt down in front of the man and reached to feel the bones himself.

Luke stopped him with an upraised hand. "Let it be for a moment."

Raphael grabbed another towel off the table and used it to wipe off the man's face. "We're _really_, really sorry, Doc. We didn't mean this for you guys, and _no_ one was s'pose to get hurt."

Luke shivered with a sigh. "It's not how I planned to start today either."

Raphael bent down farther to continue toweling him off, and then he met Leonardo's gaze with a wince.

"Donny would you grab another towel off the counter when you have a second?" Luke requested.

"Doc, I don't see—"

"Right there beside you."

"Oh, yeah."

Luke's hand fell on Leonardo's shoulder as he breathed through another spasm of pain.

"Are you gonna be okay, Doc?" the red-masked turtle asked nervously.

"Hopefully."

Raphael frowned. "I should get you some ice or something."

Luke's other hand flailed to grab Raphael's arm. "Your brother will get it. Aren't you coming, Donny?"

Leo turned his head to check on his purple-masked brother. "Don…?" He had exactly half of a second to see the pie coming before it smashed in his face hard enough to take his breath away. Raphael's muffled gasp wasn't far behind.

"Geesh, Donny, did I need to spell it out for you?" The strain was gone from Luke's voice, replaced with exasperation.

"Sorry, Doc. I figured out what you meant!"

Leonardo wiped away whipped cream and chocolate with disbelief. "What…Doc? You're not hurt?"

"No, but I _could_ have been."

"_Doc!_" Raphael thundered. "You scared the shell out of us!"

"Good. Maybe you'll remember how it felt the next time you're planning something like that." Luke relaxed his "injured" leg and ran his fingers through his hair with disgust. "Wasted a perfectly good shower. Do you have any idea how _cold_ that stuff was?"

Leo exchanged another look with Raphael. "We're really sorry, Doc."

Donatello cleared his throat loudly.

"And Don," he added sheepishly. "Guess we should have thought that through a little longer."

"Yeah. Why didn't you?" Raphael retorted.

The blue-masked brother glanced darkly at his partner in crime, but didn't get to speak before his youngest brother nonchalantly entered the room.

Michelangelo stood in the doorway for a few seconds, taking in the carnage. "_Whoa_. I can't be responsible for all of this."

"Where _were_ you, Shellhead?" Raphael growled.

"A guy can't go to the bathroom without missing a war? Doc, how'd _you_ get sucked in?"

"Just my 'turtle luck,'" the man replied dryly.


	28. Test

Luke trotted down the steps with a towel still draped around his shoulders. His blue eyes narrowed briefly when he saw the two oldest turtles lingering in the living area, waiting their turn to use the bathroom.

"Do I need to apologize again?" Leo volunteered. "Because I will."

The man clenched his jaw to keep from laughing over their condition. "It was an accident – I get it. It would not be _wise_ for it to happen again."

Leonardo and Raphael shook their heads so fast that Luke had to swallow a chuckle.

"Okay…well, I'm pretty sure that Donny is done too, so you guys should be good to go upstairs."

"Thanks, Doc," the red-masked turtle said meekly.

The two turtles made a dash for the staircase, and Luke made another wary attempt to enter the kitchen. He peered into the room cautiously, and saw the orange-masked turtle wringing out a mop.

Mike cast him a grin. "It's safe to come out now, Doc."

"You decided to help them clean up?"

"Eh, I sort of set the whole morning in motion. _I _was Leo and Raph's target all along, so I felt bad."

Luke shook his head. "You guys are going to give each other a concussion one of these days."

Mike waved off his concern. "Leo and Raph are total amateurs. Their 'trap' didn't even go off properly, and they shoulda warned anyone else in the vicinity about it."

"Granted – but I still think you ought to be more careful."

"I'll keep that in mind, Doc." Mike nodded toward the counter. "I reset the coffeemaker for you and Donny. I hope Leo and Raph didn't set you back _too_ much."

"No, we won't be doing any _real _work until this afternoon."

Michelangelo leaned on his mop as he nervously bit his lip. "Um…Donny said that you guys decided to put Master Splinter out after all."

The man nodded hesitantly. "It works the best for the procedure we decided to go with."

"Is it going to hurt then?"

"There aren't any pain-sensing nerve endings within lung tissue. It's really only concerning his comfort because of the way we're going to insert the bronchoscope to take samples. We'll give him a mild sedative through an IV line."

"What will the samples tell you? Will you know what's wrong with him?" The pleading tone in Mike's voice made Luke cringe.

"We're working on it, Mikey."

The turtle glanced down at the floor. "I'm gonna get rid of this water. How about some late breakfast? You in the mood for anything?"

Luke snorted. "As long as it doesn't involve ice cream."

Michelangelo managed a smile. "Leo and Raph might _never_ live this down. If Sensei finds out, he'll probably order a hundred flips out of 'em. There are certain lines you don't cross."

"_Once_ is an accident," Luke allowed. "If they come after me on purpose, there will be consequences."

"I don't think anyone's brave enough to attack you on purpose, Doc."

The man reached for the full coffee pot and grabbed a couple of mugs out of the cabinet. "Pranks are _your_ world, Mike. I prefer to stay out of it."

"Aw…didn't you have a _little_ fun?"

"Not exactly."

"Not even emptying the rest of the whipped cream on them?"

Luke smiled, but still shook his head. "I repeat, it's your thing, Mike."

* * *

Luke was studying a print-out when he heard someone else come into the lab, and assumed it was Donny without turning around. "I grabbed you some coffee, Don. I think we need to take another look at the dosage for the sedative."

"We don't necessarily have to put him all the way under," an unexpected voice returned.

Luke swiveled on heel in surprise. "Oh. Hey, Marc. You're early."

"A consultation got cut short, and another appointment was postponed. Hence, here I am," his friend replied. "Donny said he was ready to give back the Avalanche, so I'm eager to get a look at it too."

"I already saw it; he did a great job. It's nice to know a mechanic, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Don also told me that you got initiated this morning."

"More like I got caught in the cross-fire," Luke grumbled.

Marcus chuckled. "What was that like?"

"It was cold mess. Can we talk about something else? _Anything_ else?"

His friend repressed a grin, barely. "Sure. I brought your mail….a few day's worth. Are you planning on returning to the Main Land any time soon?"

"I'll get around to it. I'm not missing much, am I?"

"Nah – just the usual madness."

Luke flipped through envelopes, scanning sender names rapidly. His search paused when he came to a glossy postcard print featuring a picturesque mountain side and a familiar cabin. He stared at the image mutely for a couple of seconds and turned it over to see the handwritten note on the back.

_Wanted to give you a chance to see how the card came out. Susan forced me to look at so many prints, I almost went cross-eyed. She was determined to capture the "spirit" of the house, and we both thought this came close. We'd like your thoughts on it too, and hope to hear from you soon._

_-Caleb_

Luke glanced up to find his friend watching him.

"Are you looking into some time share?" Marcus joked.

"No," he said quietly. His instinct was to put the postcard away, but something made him hesitate. "This is the place my parents built in North Carolina, Marc."

Marcus did a double-take of the image. "_That's_ where you grew up? It's enormous. You could fit an army in there."

Luke shrugged. "My parents had big hearts. A lot of different people stayed with us through the years, mostly trying to recover from illnesses. An old colleague of my father's and his wife look after the house now." He set the mail aside on the desk, but gave the postcard one last look.

"I'd like to see it someday."

"I'll give you a good recommendation. They're running a pretty swanky Bed & Breakfast out of it."

"Don't you ever miss those mountains?"

"I don't know. I think it's the past with my parents that I miss, not so much the location. It doesn't have the appeal that it used to."

"Think you'll ever go back?"

"I don't have much reason to."

"It was your home."

"_Was_," Luke emphasized. "And it's being well taken care of." The man cracked his neck distractedly. "Do you want to grab Donny and nail down these details? We can get a jump on the biopsy since you're here."

"Thanks for waiting. I know you don't actually need me for this."

"You're an important member of this medical team, Marc. Of course we want you involved."

"Okay. I'm ready if you are."

The blond doctor was nervous about what they were possibly going to find, but too much time had passed without action. _I probably should have started pushing for this weeks ago, but I had a feeling Splinter wouldn't be extremely receptive. We all want to know what's going on with him...but I can't help hoping that his lungs don't tell me a single thing._

* * *

The bronchoscopy ended up taking longer than Luke initially planned, but since they'd decided to put Splinter out, he wanted to make the procedure as worthwhile as possible. They'd captured video and taken numerous samples to give them something to work with, and Luke only hoped it would be enough to shed some light on his condition.

The tissue samples were already safely packed away, but Luke saw Donatello's eyes irresistibly drawn to the case from across the room. In a split second, the man made a decision. He quickly slipped off his gloves and stepped in front of the samples, blocking it from the turtle's view.

"Doc…what are you doing?" the purple-masked turtle asked.

"I want you to let me have the first look at the samples, Donny, on my own."

His chocolate-brown eyes widened. "I'm not allowed to see them?"

"I said I want the first crack at them. I can get access to one of St. Joseph's partner labs and use it after hours. They have specialized equipment—"

"You're taking them away entirely? You can't do that!"

"I'm not going to let anyone else see them, Donny."

"That's not the point, Doc! I don't understand why you feel the need to do this."

"Who's the Crew Chief?"

Don refused to answer him.

"C'mon, Don. Who do you trust with your lives?"

"_You_, but—"

"Then trust me with this. I'll take good care of the samples. I'm just going to perform some preliminary analysis, and then confer with you from there."

"I don't like it, Doc. Why can't we do it here? You're acting as if you don't want me to see them at all."

Luke refused to reiterate what he'd _already_ repeated. "I'll be in touch."

Donny huffed under his breath with frustration. "This isn't fair."

"I'm not trying to be fair," he said honestly. Luke looked at his watch. "Regular business hours will be over soon, and I'll go in. I may be able to tell you something before the night is over."

"Doc! We have equipment HERE. Why do you want to drag the samples somewhere else?"

Luke put a hand on the turtle's shoulder and looked him directly in the eye. "There are some things you shouldn't have to do. Your responsibility is to your Sensei. Keep an eye on his recovery and make sure he comes around well from sedation. I want you to focus on _him_, and let me focus on this. We'll come back together very soon."

"It doesn't sound like you're giving me a choice. Are you leaving then?"

"In a few minutes."

"I want you to call me _tonight._"

"I can't guarantee I'll have results, Don. I don't know if there's anything to _find_."

"If you don't call me, I'll be calling you. Repeatedly."

"How will I get anything done if you're blowing up my phone?"

"You could start by staying _here_."

"My mind's made up, Donny."

"Then you'd better be in contact, Doc, because I know how to find you."


	29. Movie Night

***I don't own "Get Smart", Steve Carell, or Anne Hathaway. But I do enjoy them. :) Thanks for the suggestion, Heather.**

* * *

Raphael sighed contentedly as he put up the foot rest for his recliner and leaned both arms behind his head. He'd been keeping an eye on his Master for the last two hours while Splinter had napped on the couch. The rat was sitting up now, and they were both waiting for the rest of the turtles to join them in the living area.

"You sure you don't want something else to drink, Sensei?"

"I am certain your older brother will be bringing me fresh tea, Raphael, but thank you." Splinter's throat sounded a little raw as a result from the procedure, but he was no worse for wear.

The red-masked turtle grinned. "Yeah, but I could go light a fire under him or something. "

He smiled in return. "That is not necessary, my son. Do you know what we are watching?"

"I _will_ know, as soon as you pick the movie out."

"Hmm…" Splinter's face was thoughtful. "I will consider it."

Raph gave him another appraising glance. "Are you warm enough?"

"Raphael, I _will_ tell you if I need something."

"Yeah, sure. Sorry, Sensei."

"You do not need to be sorry," he replied quietly. "I only grow weary of concern being heaped on my head."

"Think of it as love," Raphael told him. "_Real_ love that is, not Mikey's version."

"I understand that you have been spreading your youngest brother's version of 'love' as well," Splinter said reproachfully.

The turtle hung his head sheepishly. "It was an accident, Sensei, I swear."

"Mm. Perhaps a little more thought should go into such actions before they are committed."

"Don't worry, Father. Leo and I ain't never gonna make a mistake like that again."

"I'm glad to hear it." The rat's voice was appropriately stern, but amusement flickered through his dark eyes.

Raphael chanced another smile. "Doc got _us_ pretty good. Leo and I didn't see it coming, 'specially from him."

"People can always surprise you, my son, no matter how well you think you know them. It is never wise to assume that you can predict someone's mind perfectly, whether they are friend or foe."

Raphael relaxed his arms and drew them down to his sides. "I hear that, Sensei. Me and Leo are working on it too."

"When you choose to think before you react and listen before you speak, you can avoid much conflict, Raphael. Misunderstandings often create problems out of thin air, where they never would have existed."

"I understand, Master." Raphael glanced toward the kitchen door. "You want me to see what's holding up the guys?"

Splinter chuckled. "A bit more patience would not kill you either, my son."

"Do you know that for _sure_?"

The rat laughed louder. "You _could_ check on your brother in the lab. Donatello has spent plenty of time locked away in there."

"You're right, Sensei. I'll go drag his shell out first. You stay comfortable, and think about a movie."

The red-masked turtle got to his feet and walked the short distance to his brother's lab. When he opened the door, he saw Donny hunched over his desk, typing at a slower pace than normal.

"Genius? What are you doing?"

Don looked over his shoulder. "Just waiting."

"Did Doc really tell you to sit in this room and wait for him to call you back?"

The purple-masked turtle shook his head.

"Didn't think so, Bro. Come out here with the rest of us. We're gonna watch a movie. Maybe you could help Sensei pick something."

Donatello turned back around to the computer for a couple of seconds and shut down the windows he'd been working in. "All right. I'm coming."

He lingered in the doorway until Donny gained his feet, and then led the way into the living area. "Pull up a seat on the couch, Don. I'm gonna see what Leo and Mike are up to."

Raphael went into the kitchen and found his other two brothers still working on snacks. The fresh-baked smell coming from the oven was almost enough to make the red-masked turtle salivate.

"Smells awesome, Mikey."

"There are only a couple more minutes on the brownies," the youngest turtle replied. "Got a movie yet?"

"Between Sensei and Donny, they ought to come up with something. Do you still have Don's plate set aside somewhere?"

"It's in the microwave," Mike replied. "You wanna set it to heat for a minute or two?"

Raphael rammed his blue-masked brother in the side as he went by him, forcing Leo to juggle the 2-liter bottle he'd been precisely pouring.

"Didn't we create _enough_ of a mess today?" his brother demanded.

Raph snorted. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Fearless."

"Are you saying you don't want any Mountain Dew then?"

"No way, Bro - you don't get to hog it all. Did you make Sensei's tea yet?"

"Almost done steeping. We tried to time things out properly."

"I can take it to him, but Sensei will probably be more interested in those brownies Mike has going."

The orange-masked turtle beamed. "They're double dark chocolate. Master Splinter's gonna love them."

"And Donny can't have any until he eats his dinner," Raphael cracked. "That ought to make him clean his plate." He opened the microwave to retrieve the leftovers Mike had set aside for their absent brother. The lasagna still looked good enough that he'd have been glad to jump on it if Donny refused.

Raphael's head jerked around as Mike flicked his shoulder hard.

"Hey, I saw those hungry eyes," his brother said warningly. "Do I need to go with you to make sure Donny gets it?"

The red-masked turtle struck a cocky grin. "I'm not _that_ mean, Pipsqueak. We can't have the genius starving on us."

Raphael grabbed some silverware and swooped a glass off of Leonardo's tray.

"Hey!" his blue-masked brother protested.

"For Donny, Leo. You understand."

Leonardo rolled his eyes, and went to work finishing Splinter's tea. Raphael couldn't resist giving his older brother a smirk before leaving the room.

Donny was seated on the couch to the right of their Sensei, and appeared more relaxed than he had inside the lab. _He's either getting better at faking it, or Master Splinter has already worked his magic._

"I got your dinner, Donny."

Don's eyes actually lit up when he saw the dish.

"Guess you _are_ hungry then, huh?"

His brother held out his hand. "Thanks."

"You realize that you could have eaten like two hours ago," Raph teased, keeping the plate out of reach.

"Raphael." Splinter's whiskers twitched disapprovingly.

He laughed. "I'm just messin' with him, Sensei." He released Donatello his dinner, and Splinter handed _him_ the remote control**.**

"Your brother put in the movie for us."

"Yeah? What'd you go with?"

Splinter cocked his head with a mischievous smile. "'Missed it by _that_ much.'"

The red-masked turtle recognized the quote instantly. "'Get Smart' is a good one. That Steve Carell guy is pretty darn funny. "

Donatello chuckled. "You don't mind watching Anne Hathaway either."

"What's to mind? Steve's character is a lucky guy if you ask me."

Don shrugged. "I guess…if you're into movie stars and all that."

Raphael shook his head. "We ain't _all _hooking up with the girl of our dreams, Donny."

His brother's eyes widened as he swiftly glanced at Splinter. "For the record, Jen and I do _not_ hook up."

"It's pretty hard to when she's in Australia, huh?"

Donny gave him a dirty look and Raph laughed. "You made that way too easy, Bro."

Splinter silenced him with another glance, and turned back to Donatello. "Eat, Donatello. I am sure the others cannot be far behind."

"Mike's waiting on his brownies to come out."

"I knew I was smelling something wonderful."

"Mike's up to his usual tricks, Sensei. I think we're all in for a treat, except for Donny. He's still gotta finish dinner," he added with a snicker.

"Lay off him, Raphy," Mike said from the kitchen doorway. "Not everyone finishes things in three bites."

Donny sighed loudly. "When did everyone become so interested in my eating habits?"

"If you'd get on a normal schedule, it would give us less to talk about," Leo said mildly.

"Both of you can get off my shell," Don grumbled. "Raph, turn the movie on before I do it for you."

* * *

Mike's high-pitched laugh filled the room as he pointed at the TV screen. "Girl just got denied. Who'd wanna dance with a jerk like that anyhow?"

Raphael folded his arms. "Pretty on the outside don't make her the whole package, that's for sure. Maxwell owns mean girl _and_ the bad guy without even putting a hand on them."

Splinter nodded knowingly. "Some of the best fights are won without lifting a finger."

"No, just his dance partner." Leo laughed.

Raphael looked over at his blue-masked brother, who seemed fixated by the scene on the screen. "This must be your favorite part, Leo."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You musta watched this dance a hundred times," Mike filled in. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you have a thing fo—"

Leonardo swatted the youngest turtle with a couch cushion to shut him up, but it didn't stop Raphael from exchanging a secret laugh with Mike.

Splinter sighed. "Would you care to pause the movie until you are finished?"

"No, Sensei," three voices said in unison.

Raphael quietly leaned back in his chair as the scene changed. The break-in at the mansion was one of _his_ favorite parts, but he felt suddenly drawn to Donatello. The purple-masked turtle hadn't spoken in nearly an hour.

Don _appeared _to be watching the movie, yet Raph had the feeling his mind was far away from there. While he watched, his brother gazed down at his phone, but didn't do anything with it. Donny set the device on the side-table and rested his chin wearily in one hand. _We've got to get his mind on something else. I don't wanna draw attention to it in front of everybody though._

"You okay, Donny?" Mike asked.

Raphael rolled his eyes. _So _he_ draws attention to it._

"Yeah," Donny answered. "I'm kinda tired."

"Make sure you get some good sleep tonight, Bro," Leo instructed. "You can't take care of anyone else if you don't look after yourself."

Donatello nodded, his emotionless look giving away nothing he was thinking. "I will, Leo."

Splinter's arm came around the purple-masked turtle's shoulder. "Be certain that you do, my son."

Raphael exhaled and returned his attention to the movie. _It's just nerves. Donny's okay._

As though to reassure everyone, Don chuckled. "Max shows her up with those lasers. He's better than 99 gives him credit for."

"She'll figure it out," Mike said. "She does every time, no matter how often I've watched it."

Don smiled. "It could be interesting if the story did change on you. Like one of those 'Choose Your Own Adventures' or something."

Leo shook his head gravely. "Those are strictly forbidden."

Raphael's brow furrowed. "Says who?"

"It's in the rules."

"_What_ rules?"

"If you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm afraid I can't help you."

Mike shook his head." Dude. You're not making any sense."

"Neither do half the things you say," Leo retorted.

Splinter cleared his throat. "_Are _we in fact still watching the movie?"

"Sorry, Sensei," Leo said swiftly.

Raphael steeled himself to focus on the screen, and not look Donny's direction again. _Whatever there might be to worry about, it can wait a while longer._


	30. Confessions

***This is the final chapter of Bonds, and I can't say that it ends on a happy note. If you're familiar with my series, then you already know what happens next. If you haven't read any of my other fics, then you're in luck. My story "Sacrifice" picks up seven weeks after Bonds. The fic is complete, but be forewarned - Sacrifice is one of my early works from about four years ago...and the "quality" reflects that fact. **

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, and taking this journey with me, friends. There were some difficult moments, but this fic begged to be written. This last chapter is a double whammy, and I feel bad for it...but I can't change the future, because I already wrote it. So...um...yeah. That's it.**

* * *

Donatello paced. In the last two hours, he felt like he'd worn a permanent impression in the rug that covered the concrete floor of his lab. Two hours in which he'd been waiting for Doc to answer his last text. The purple-masked turtle had _tried_ going to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. After listening to his younger brother's light snoring long enough to be sure that he was deeply asleep, he snuck out of the bedroom.

Donny was sorely tempted to go to Luke's apartment. Tracking the man's location through his cell phone revealed that he'd gone home, and it'd be easy to catch up with him there. Yet Leonardo's instructions to him earlier that evening made him hesitate to leave the den. He wasn't even supposed to be _awake_, let alone traversing the streets alone.

_But I could take the Battleshell. It wouldn't be like I was out hopping roofs by myself. _The hopeful thought was squashed in a flash. Leonardo would figure it out. His older brother would somehow know what he'd done, and there would be punishment. Donny looked at his watch, squinting at the small numbers.

_It's after 2AM. Is Doc still awake? Does he know something and he's just hiding it from me? _Don fingered his phone, mind suddenly made up regardless of the consequences. He opened a text field and tapped a quick message.

_If you're still awake, you'd better stop ignoring my calls. I'm about to come to the surface and find you myself. I'll go crazy down here, Doc._

Donatello set the phone down on his desk and waited. _I know you're up, Doc. I've got that feeling. So help me, if you don't say something I _will_ come after you. I don't care what Leo does to me. It won't be as bad as sitting around here._ He stared at his cell, willing the device to ring.

All of his breath rushed out in a giant _whoosh_ when his ringtone went off, and he scooped up the phone without hesitation. "Doc? Hello?"

"Yes. It's me." The greeting was emotionless, but the man's brevity didn't sit well with the turtle.

"What's going on? Do you know something? Why haven't you called me?"

"Slowly, Donny. I'm coming down there in a few hours, and I can explain everything I know then."

"No!" he proclaimed fiercely. "You can explain _now_, or I'm coming to beat down your door!"

"Don't make this harder on me than it already is." Luke's voice got softer.

Donny clenched his phone tightly. "I can't wait, Doc. I'm sorry. You have to tell me."

The man was quiet for a long moment, but the turtle could hear his breathing quicken.

"Are you sitting down?"

Don dropped into a desk chair and the hand grasping his phone shook. "I am. What did you find?"

"I found tissue damage, and evidence of scarring on the surface of his lungs. When I delved deeper into the samples, I realized the…um, his alveoli are being affected."

"Affected how?" Donatello recognized the importance of the lung's air sacs well, and Luke's hesitation to elaborate made panic seize in his gut.

"They're being destroyed. Four out of six samples confirm the destruction taking place of the surface walls in the air sacs. I can't tell you why it's happening, but I can say with a fair amount of certainty that it's the source of Master Splinter's breathing problems. His ability to exchange oxygen with carbon dioxide is being hindered. This is the root, Donny. Whatever is causing the damage, it's responsible for him being sick."

A chill washed over the turtle so hard that he shivered. "What do you _think_ could be causing it?"

"I don't know. This type of condition isn't my area of expertise. I don't want to put Splinter through undue stress, but we need to have another look at his lungs. Finding the problem is only part of the battle. Now we have to discover why it's going wrong in the first place." Luke's voice wavered.

Donny blinked back fearful tears that tried to surface. "This is really serious."

"Yes, it is. I wanted to be able to tell you more, but there isn't anything else. Not yet."

Donatello steadied his breathing with difficulty. "Y-you're coming in the morning?"

"Yes, Don. Don't try to talk to anyone about this without me, okay? We're in this together. This doesn't mean it's over."

"No," he said faintly.

"Are you okay?"

The turtle wasn't sure how to answer. "I don't know what I am."

"Donny, I'm sorry."

Don bent over the desk, lowering the phone briefly so Luke wouldn't hear him sniff. "It's not your fault, Doc."

"I didn't want to tell you like this."

"I didn't give you a choice."

"I can come down now."

"No, don't do that. Then _nobody_ will get any sleep."

"Will you promise me you'll try?"

"Yeah, Doc," he replied without feeling.

"Okay. Then I'll be down there by 8AM, and I'll bring my findings for us to go through."

"All right, Doc. Try to get some rest too."

"Bye."

Donny dropped the phone on the desk, leaning harder on the top for support. His forehead grazed the surface of the keyboard while he tried to settle down his heart rate. _We don't know anything for sure yet,_ he thought feebly. _Except than an important component of his lungs which is vital for life is failing, and we don't have a clue _why_._

Dread was creeping up on him, no matter how hard he wanted to fight it. They were far behind whatever ailment was affecting Splinter; it had ravaged his lungs for months while they'd been unaware. The sudden tidal wave of fear and grief combined to shatter what remained of his hope and tears surfaced.

Sleep was out of the question, but he didn't feel capable of sitting there alone for several hours either. He looked at his phone. _I'm going to have to come clean with Jen sooner or later. _The idea of calling her was spontaneous, but he liked it more than the thought of dragging his brothers out of bed.

The twelve-hour time difference made it afternoon in Sydney, and likely a good chance to catch the young woman for an extended period. He didn't think as he dialed her number, afraid that he might try to talk himself out of it. The phone rang two, three, then four times, and he almost hung up. On the fifth ring however, he heard a sound on the line.

"Donny?" Jenna's voice was high and tight.

Apprehension stirred within him. "Jen? Are you okay?"

The young woman made no attempt to answer him.

"Jenna?"

Donatello heard muffled sobbing this time, and his anxiety shot through the roof. "Jenna, what's wrong? Are you in trouble?"

The consistency of her cries made it sound like the young woman couldn't catch her breath. The thought of her hyperventilating made Donny take on a more soothing tone.

"Listen to my voice. Breathe with me, Jen, and try to calm down, okay?"

She didn't seem capable of following his instructions. "Donny, he's _gone!_" The words escaped her under extreme duress.

"Who's gone?"

It took a few more seconds to get coherent speech from her. "She shot him! She ki-killed him!"

"_Who_?"

"The trial!" Her voice rose with intensity. "My dad! He's gone, he's gone, he's _gone!_"

Donatello felt like _he'd_ been shot. He was paralyzed for a few moments, and could do nothing more than listen to the woman he loved sob desperately into the receiver.

"Jen," he finally said hoarsely, tears flooding his eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

"I don't know where my mom is!" she gasped. "Victoria was there to meet him outside; she saw the whole thing! The police have her somewhere else. They won't take me to her. They won't let me out of this room!"

The purple-masked turtle's mind raced for words. "They're keeping her safe, Jen – they must be! They're probably trying to keep you safe too."

His fingers suddenly came to life, jumping on a search engine to find the details that Jenna was too distraught to communicate. Don looked up the website of one of Australia's major news networks and scrolled down the page to see if he could find anything on Jenna's adoptive father.

It took seconds to locate the story on the shooting of the American Diplomat, and he swallowed as he clicked on the link. _Failed Appeal ended courtroom battle…convicted terrorists to remain in Prison…one loyalist to their cause retaliated…_Donatello turned away from the computer as he had a strong urge to throw up.

"I want my mom!" Jenna whimpered. "I need to see her, Donny, and she needs me!"

"Jenna, she's going to be okay. You're going to get to her." He felt impotent as he uttered the words."Is there anyone nearby? Can you reach out to someone with questions about your mom?"

"I already sent someone away. I told them not to come back until they had information for me." Jenna took a couple of shuddering breaths. "Oh, Donny, I need _you_."

He bit his lip so hard that he was sure he'd broken skin. "I'm sorry, Jen." There was literally nothing else he could think of to say.

The door to the lab swung open at that moment, and his disapproving oldest brother cleared his throat. "Don, I could have sworn you agreed to get some _sleep_ tonight."

There was no time to contain his tears before he had to face the blue-masked turtle.

"Bro, what's _wrong?_"

Donny pointed to his cell phone, pushed away from the desk, and motioned to the computer screen.

His brother came to look at the story over his shoulder and a mighty gasp left him. "No!"

Don nodded painfully while Leo covered his mouth with one hand.

"Oh my God…" Leo's words were hardly audible, and then tears came to his eyes too.

"Donny, there's someone at the door," Jenna said suddenly.

Donatello drew a deep breath. "If you're sure it's safe, answer it."

The young woman was gone for about a minute before returning to the line. "They're going to take me to her!"

"Good. Make sure you stay with the police, Jen! Don't get separated from them for any reason."

"Uh huh." Her agreement was shaky.

"I love you. Get to your mom and call me when you can."

"Donny, I love you."

"Go. Whenever you need me, I'm here."

"Okay, I'm going," she whispered.

Don hung up the phone in slow motion. He felt so overwhelmed that he slumped forward, bracing his hands on his knees to keep his balance.

Leo's arms instantly went around him. "I'm sorry, Don. I can't imagine what this is like for her, or being separated from Jen at a time like this."

"It's madness," Don mumbled. "There's nothing else to call it. I…I didn't know what to say to her! There's no way to make her feel better. There's absolutely _nothing _I can do!"

His brother didn't let go of him. "Just hearing your voice helped her, Don, I'm sure of it."

"I don't think so." Donny choked on a sob.

Leonardo held him at arm's length so he could look in his eyes. "You don't need to have all the answers. You were there for her, and we'll be here for _you_. No one is going through this alone."

The purple-masked turtle pulled gently away from him, hiding behind his hands. Doc's words were ringing in his ears, but too much had happened in the last half an hour, and he was at a breaking point.

"Leo, it's not _just_ Jen's dad."

"What are you saying?"

"That's not why I was awake. I finally forced Doc to talk to me."

The blue-masked turtle stiffened. "Does he know something about Sensei?"

Don nodded, and his head felt as heavy as stone.

"What did he say?"

"There's something wrong with Sensei's lungs. The air sacs are being destroyed…and Doc doesn't know why."

His oldest brother immediately paled. "What does that mean for Master Splinter? What happens next?"

"More testing…more searching," Donny said somberly.

"Is he dying? Tell me the truth."

Donatello couldn't say anything else. He only cried.


End file.
